Sherlock Holiday Celebrations!
by Rainbow Username
Summary: Spend all your holidays on Baker Street with London's best two detectives! All oneshots based on the holiday's name, number of letters the number of words in each oneshot! YOU choose the holiday, all characters used! Requests are loved, and oneshots may connect from time to time! Rated T for use of language. This may never end, depending on all the holidays out there!
1. Easter

**Welcome one, welcome all to Sherlock Holiday Celebrations!**

**Those of you who have read The Sherlock Alphabet, welcome back! It is so nice to see you again!**

**For those of you new, a pleasure to meet you! I hope you enjoy!**

**Instead of a theme word (as in my other fanfic), these are Holidays! Each Letter represents 100 words, adding to a word limit to write the fanfic oneshot in!  
**

**Today's holiday was suggested by Moos (guest), thank you!**

**Also big thank you to ME a guest, SeaStarr, iccle fairy, and the lovely Magpie of Silver, you make me so happy!**

**I am sorry for the late update, school is eating my life...whhaa! Buuutttt I spoil you anyway, so I will try to update at the latest every other day, because I looovveee you! (THAT doesn't sound creepish...)**

**Let's get this straight out the first time: I don't own Sherlock. Pwease don't sue me!**

**Without further ado, Sherlock Holiday Celebrations!**

**Sherlock Holidays: Happy Easter Sunday**

**Happy Easter Sunday = 17 total Letters = 1,700 words**

"Lily, your basket's in the car…" John chuckled as the seven year old sighed dramatically.

"I know…" she mumbled simply, keeping her blue gaze on the ground. She wore small jeans and a grey T-shirt with Lestrade's department logo print. Her purple scarf highlighted her shining straight blonde hair that cascaded down to her back. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in thought at her answer.

"Don't you want to go get it?" John asked, stopping the trio in their tracks.

"No, thank you…" she smiled politely at the doctor, then bit her lower lip anxiously, a habit similar to her Lestrades'.

Easter weekend had rolled around again…Lestrade's sister-Carol-had come with her three children to visit her brother for the weekend while she attended business meetings. Lily was the youngest of the three, being seven, the other two being Anthony and Jarrod, who were nine and ten.

Unfortunately, just because it was a holiday, it didn't mean Lestrade could just shut down the police station for the weekend, or Carol could just skip her meetings. The boys were old enough to 'hang around' Lestrade's work for a while, but Lily was a bit young … Carol made him promise he would find the most responsible babysitters in London to take care of her youngest child…so, what better protection than London's best detectives?

"_Only for the weekend?" John asked for the third time, looking from Lestrade to little Lily outside 221B's door._

"_Yes. I've had your back for three years…all I'm asking for is this." Lestrade pleaded desperately. "I'll give you two anything you want, as long as Sherlock doesn't brutally murder her …"_

"_He's going to kill __**me**__ for this…" John sighed, opening the door. "Fine…but if she picks up his nasty habits, I'm not responsible…" _

"_Absolutely…" Lestrade chuckled, patting Johns shoulder, "Thanks." He bent to his niece and ruffled her hair lovingly. "Be back soon, squirt…have fun with Uncle John." He laughed, nodding to the doctor and sprinting to his car. _

_John led Lily inside and shut the door with a sigh. A little child in the flat with Sherlock Holmes seemed like a bad idea. He smiled down to curious girl, who drank in her surroundings. "Ready to meet Sherlock, Lily?"_

"_Is he really going to kill me?" she asked seriously, already ascending the steps with no apparent fear._

"_Oh God…" John mumbled, running his fingers stressfully through his hair…_

In all honesty, John was quite surprised at how positive Sherlock was towards Lily. Then again, Lily was not a normal seven year old. She was quite straightforward and blunt, similar to the grown detective…not to mention she was showing signs ofhigh intelligence and a clever personality. She enjoyed music and reading, but she found herself in numerous mischievous situations now and again, such as exploring experimental instruments on the table or artifacts in the cupboard. Now that he thought about it, John realized she was almost like a miniature female Sherlock…

The little Lestrade sighed again in distress. "Is something wrong, Lily?" John motioned towards the school playground, where they were supposed to meet the family again for one last event before their departure. Last time he had checked, Lily loved finding hidden things, so why not Easter eggs? "I thought you were looking forward to this?"

"Not me…Mommy was…for my brothers." she explained, watching in slight alarm as the flood of small children ran to a nearby school field, baskets in hand. "See?" she pointed to Carol, who waved in a beckoning manner in the distance. The detective's felt a pang of sympathy for the ignored girl…

Xxxxx

Sherlock sat uncomfortably next to an equally grumpy Lily on a picnic blanket, with John standing and rubbing his face stressfully as the numerous children shuffled to get ready for the annual Easter egg hunt. Lestrade couldn't make it, and the trio was jealous. Carol was off helping set-up; and seemed simply ecstatic for her sons to be participating…she hadn't paid much attention to Lily since they arrived. Lily didn't seem surprised.

"I hate people…" she whispered loudly to Sherlock.

"Don't we all…" he snorted back, understanding the overwhelming feeling.

John rolled his eyes. "You two are hopeless…"

"This _game_ is hopeless…" Lily grunted crossing her arms and pursing her lips angrily. John chuckled at her snappy words, "I wanna study ba-back…bacteria!" she snapped her head to Sherlock. "Let's do that again! Pleeeaasseee Uncle Sherlock? This is stupid, I wanna do something smart…" she informed him, evicting a laugh from both detectives.

Sherlock still wasn't used to the term 'uncle'. It wasn't that he disliked it, he just felt as though he weren't the type to really look up to, as Lily did. "I'm afraid that's up to your mother." He told her, wishing they were just home again. This was pointless, both he and John knew it.

Lily seemed to know so as well. "Uuuhhhhh…." she grunted miserably.

"Why do you want to leave so much?" John asked, smirking as she copied "Uncle" Sherlock's sitting position.

"I hate other kids…" she stated again, studying Sherlock's scarf and tying her own to match it perfectly.

"Why?" John inquired, giving up and sitting down as well.

"They don't like me, so I don't like them…"

"See John? I'm not the only one…its logic." Sherlock grinned at the doctor, who rolled his eyes.

"They hate me 'cause I'm like you." Lily poked Sherlock's leg.

"…Like me?" he asked, confused.

"Mmmhmmm…" Lily mumbled sadly, "I'm not normal…I-I'm just….I'm a freak." She croaked, toying with the edge of the blanket.

John felt his stomach churn. He would kill to be back at Baker Street. "Lily, you're not a freak-"

"Yeah, Uncle John…I am…and I like being one. No one else does. Not even Mommy." She responded, "But you guys like it…right?" she looked back and forth between the two, hope glossing over her sapphire eyes.

"We like it very much." Sherlock smiled.

They had never seen a grin wider than Lily's.

Xxxxx

"Ready….Seeeettt….GO!"

The detectives grimaced as the stampede of children pushed and shoved past petite Lily. Even her brothers had jostled her without a passing glance. Soon the entire field besides the trio was empty, with Lily picking herself up and dusting herself off heatedly. Sherlock and John found they hated this game too.

"This is so stupid!" she cried out to no one in particular.

"Lily-" John began.

"NO, they are all…im…imbeciles!" she shouted angrily, stomping to the detectives. John glared at Sherlock for teaching her such a word. "And Mommy doesn't care! All she wants is for us to be winners! I-I don't w-wanna win her games…" she gave up and hugged Sherlock's leg in defeat. "Take me home, Uncle Sherlock…"

The detective raised an eyebrow. "You'll be going home after-"

"No, home -home…your home…" she pleaded, her voice muffled through his pant. "I wanna be smart Lily again… not weak Lily who doesn't know…" she squeezed his leg. "…anything…"

"Lilly-you're smart…" John kneeled down next to her, inwardly cursing Carol, and even Lestrade, for not noticing just how special this little girl was. "…and you're very strong." He added, not exactly sure what to do to comfort such a complex problem.

"They don't know that. I'm not 'cool' enough to find Easter eggs…can we go home?" she asked again. Sherlock felt moist tears seep through his pants. "P-please? I hate this…"

Sherlock felt sickened-it was an odd feeling, but one he recognized. Father never paid attention to anyone in the family…especially the child who was different…at least Mummy had supported him. But here was Lily, similar to him, who was ignored by her only parent and perhaps even her genetic uncle. Her brothers only made things worse. She was seven-and already alone in life.

Not today…

John opened his mouth to say something else, but caught Sherlock's glare that expressed, "No, my turn..." and stood back.

The tall detective gently pried Lily's death grip from his leg and knelt down in front of her so she looked down to him. "Lily." He said firmly, forcing her aqua blue eyes to meet his frosty ones.

"I don't wanna stay anymore…" she whispered, squeezing her scarf in worry. "This game…hurts…"

"But we can make this into a smart game…" he told her enthusiastically. John had no idea where this was going, but just stood and watched in amazement as the two seemed to build a certain connection.

"H-how?"

"Remember that word I taught you last night?"

"Deh…de-duct..tions…deductions!" she nodded proudly, "Those are fun."

"Well, deductions are everywhere, yes?"

"Yes…everywhere…" Lily echoed, "Right Uncle John?" she looked for confirmation.

"Right." He smiled knowingly.

"So if deductions are everywhere…" Sherlock hinted, lightly gesturing to the distant searching children.

"Then they're here too!" she squealed in excitement, bouncing up and down in eagerness. "Where-where are they Uncle Sherlock?!"

"You have to find them," the detective chuckled.

"Oh-oh-oh LOOK!" she cried to them, pointing to a straight looking bush. "The branches on the side are ruffled up!"

"So they are…perhaps you should investigate…" Sherlock smiled as Lily nodded and scampered off to the bush. "What's so funny?" he asked the chuckling doctor next to him.

"You're such an arse to Lestrade, but you've got the biggest soft spot for his niece…" he grinned as Sherlock smirked. "What did you find, Lily?" he asked as she ran back with two eggs in hand.

"They're for you!" she squeaked happily. "Aren't they neat?!"

"They sure are," John smiled, "Thank you!"

"Uncle Sherlock?" Lily asked in a hesitant tone.

"Yes?"

"Can I make deductions with _**you**_ guys now? Finding eggs is boring…" she crinkled her nose and giggled, "I like yours better…"

"I certainly don't see why not." Sherlock answered, scooping Lily into his arms as she squealed with pleasure. She held onto his scarf and eagerly searched her surroundings from a new height. "Alright, what do we see? Would you like to go first, John?" Sherlock chuckled as Lily clapped her hands excitedly.

"Wait-wait-wait, I forgot to say something Uncle John!" she peeped.

"What did you forget?" John laughed warmly as Sherlock grinned.

Lily giggled with delight as she hugged the tall detective tightly, "Happy Easter Sunday!"

**Yes, I was feeling fluffy this week, how did you guess?!**

**I hope you enjoyed this, just wanted to put some smiles on your beautiful faces! Any specific parts ya liked? (This helps me improve my writing!) **

**And hey, Lestrade needs some family background, yeah?**

**And Sherlock and John with a kid is hilarious and adorable. So you're welcome. (hee hee I'm kidding, I just thought you would like it!)**

**Now the big question:**

**Which holiday next? **

**(I promise we will get to them ALL!) We do not need to go in order, and they can be well -known or unique! Please do share!**

**Reviews =LOVE!**


	2. Thanksgiving

**Oh please don't be angry!**

**I apologize for the late update, I am sooo sorrryyyy! I can promise I will make it up to you by posting another chapter tomorrow and getting back on schedule!  
**

**Okay, on another note I have decided to answer my wonderful guest reviewers at the bottom of the page! :)  
**

**AND I FORGOT TO MENTION! Each oneshot must end with the holiday's name! Okey doke!  
**

**Today's holiday was given to us by the lovely LoryLily (guest) and yes, Lily will be featured in the Halloween oneshot! (I just wanted to space them a bit! :) )  
**

**HUGE thank you to LoryLily, ME a guest, Moos (guest), johnsarmylady, Aviatress(guest), ravenoak21 and austria's-nocturne, you all are so wonderful!  
**

**I hope you enjoy this!  
**

**"Today in this boring economics class, we will learn how to buy and own some stocks and such."  
**

***Raises hand*  
**

**"Yes?"  
**

**"CAN I BUY SHERLOCK?"  
**

**Hee hee. Nope. Sucks for me. Oh well! ENJOY!  
**

**Sherlock Holidays: Happy Thanksgiving, John**

**Happy Thanksgiving John =21 letters = 2,100 words  
**

"Is something bothering you, John?" the detective asked from his chair, plucking at his violin. The doctor placed his bookmark on the page he had read and reread over and over again on account of distracting thoughts.

"No, 'course not…" he replied. Sherlock knew right off the bat he was lying. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"You tell me…"

A brief silence ensued with Sherlock intently searching John's eyes for an answer to his uncharacteristic behaviors today. He was quiet…more than usual. When he _did_ talk it was a bit snappy. The majority of John's time was spent 'reading' in his chair, but it was painfully obvious to Sherlock there was something nagging at his mind. Something not right.

It worried him.

"Sorry…" the doctor mumbled, massaging his forehead stressfully, "I'm sorry…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for-"

"Yes, I do," he interrupted, "I've been a complete arse today, it's nothing against you, I'm sorry…just ignore me, really."

"I'm not sure if being alone is what you require at this time, John..." Sherlock stated calmly, placing his violin aside and resting his fingertips against one another. "I would think today of all days is the time to spend with others…" he studied John intently before delicately adding, "Thanksgiving is time to spend with family, yes?"

John immediately grimaced at the statement…for what reason, though, Sherlock was not sure. In fact, he was a quite confused as to why the doctor seemed to tense up and shift uncomfortably in his seat. Yes…something was definitely wrong.

"Look, I'm really sorry I've put you down today, Sherlock, but right now I…" John stood and sighed almost painfully as different emotions swirled about his mind. "God. I…I just need some fresh air…" and with that, he made his way to the door and shrugged on his coat.

Sherlock stood and looked sternly to the doctor, beginning to understand the reason behind his bizarre behavior. "John-"

"-I'll be back…just….I'm…I'm fine, Sherlock…" with a sigh of distress, John shut the door to the flat behind him and clomped down the staircase.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in concern as he stood in the now empty living space. "No, John…" he mumbled out loud as he urgently texted Mycroft.

"…You're not…"

Xxxxx

"Ah, John Watson, it is so wonderful to see you!" Angelo beamed at the doctor, who entered the back way of Tapas Brindista. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

"You too…" John replied half-heartedly with a sigh.

"How's Sherlock?"

"He's _Sherlock_, Angelo…" John half smiled, "Your guess is as good as mine…"

Angelo chuckled. He then seemed to scan John's features and nodded solemnly. "But you are not doing well at all, I see…"

"Um, well I wouldn't say-"

"-You don't need to." Angelo smiled sympathetically and patted John on the shoulder. "Take a seat, if you are in need of anything, you only need ask…"

"Thank you," John said sincerely.

"My pleasure." With a wink, Angelo was at the front, greeting the new customers.

John smiled and settled into the booth where he and Sherlock had their first murderer lookout together. The Study in Pink seemed so long ago…but felt so recent at the same time. Either way, John couldn't remember his days without the consulting detective.

Until Thanksgiving came around, anyway.

Outside the world moved on without him. He sat there, aching alone. He watched as the sun dipped into the horizon to give the sky an array of stunning orange and violet streaks that peeked through the clouds. It was something incredibly rare and beautiful to see alone.

But John was alone. He always had been.

John froze at the sight of a well-dressed, blonde-haired woman.

Harleen Watson smirked at her brother as she waved casually from outside the window.

Xxxxx

"I need to know."

"We've established that, but for what reason?" Mycroft snapped as he stood outside 221B with his brother pacing the sidewalk.

"His behavior-"

"-was suspicious…whether you realize it or not, brother, he is in fact human… "

"No-Mycroft-this wasn't…John." Sherlock hissed in frustration. "There is something much superior happening under this-I need his past information."

Mycroft sighed and twirled his cane absent-mindedly. "I see you're desperate enough-"

"-desperate?!"

"-and considering I 'owe you one', I suppose something can be arranged."

"I need the information _now_."

"Tsk-tsk, always impatient…" Mycroft chuckled, doing who-knows- what on his cell phone to retrieve the classified information. "Ah…Family history-yes?"

"Give me." Sherlock ordered in a childish manner, snatching the phone and scrolling through its multiple pages.

"Do be careful, if you please…" Mycroft snorted as the detective mumbled the new material to himself.

"Is this everything-"

"Sherlock."

"What?" he asked, looking up for the first time to see his brother's confused and concerned face. "What's wrong?"

"I do believe I've found John…perhaps we should intervene?" Mycroft gestured with his cane towards none other than John Watson with another blonde woman fighting as they rounded the corner to Baker Street. She seemed to be in distress and annoyance as she attempted to follow the doctor, who was speed walking away from her.

"Harley-just STOP!"

"JOHN, you don't understand-"

"No YOU don't understand, you _never_ understood, you never _wanted_ to understand!" John cried furiously as he approached the Holmes brothers. "God, I'm sorry Sherlock-I didn't mean to-Mycroft? What are you doing here?"

"Is it too much to want to stop by and say hello?" Mycroft smirked, noticing the resemblance between this woman and John. Sherlock deduced she spent more money on style rather than necessity, and was very self-centered.

"No one. We should go inside." John retorted, stomping up the steps to 221B.

"John, just listen-"

"Listen? Ha-as if you would know the first thing about listening, Harley!"

"Harley?" Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow.

"His younger sister." Sherlock answered solemnly, recalling John's family records.

"And just who are you two?" Harley snapped, glaring daggers at the Holmes brothers.

"Better people than _you_-goodnight, Harley." John spat, unlocking the door and whisking inside.

She jumped in right after him, yelling as the doctor ascended the steps, "Johnny, stop being such a coward!"

John stopped in his tracks and spun on his heels heatedly. "COWARD?! Who took the beatings for you when he was angry?! Who took the blame for everything?! Who kept little Harley from every sinful event that ever took _place_ _in that hellhole_?!" he yelled, obviously enraged.

Sherlock and Mycroft shuffled in and watched as Harley growled at John and stamped her foot in annoyance. "DADDY LOVED ME! He just hated YOU because you didn't do anything right!"

"OH, so he's _daddy_ now?! The damned man is a _**monster**_, Harley, who treats everyone like his little bitch!" John spat, gripping the staircase rail until his knuckles whitened. "The only thing I ever did wrong was stay there for as long as I did!"

"GRAH! He was RIGHT, you're just an ungrateful bastard that will never change!" Harley yelled, chucking a red box at John. "Look! Just OPEN IT!"

John rolled his eyes and lifted the flap to the small envelope. He scanned and winced at the writing, unshed tears filling his enraged eyes. "Harley-get out."

"Johnny he LOVES you, Jarrod, Mom and I miss you-"

"GET OUT, Harley, the last time I checked you were all pleased with the fact I was gone and putting my life in danger!" John closed the box and began breathing in gasps. "Stay the Hell away from me, I never want those bastards anywhere near me or anyone I care about!"

"FINE, Johnny, I don't care! You always were a selfish traitor, I guess people DON'T change!" Harley growled again.

"SELFISH?! How could you even-just-NO!" John cried, his walls coming down. He was breaking, and Sherlock felt knots twist in his stomach. This was going much too far.

"I suggest you leave before you find your blood splattered on these walls." The detective hissed gravely as Mycroft subtly smirked.

"Oh I _will," _she retorted, "I…I _hate_ you!" she snarled to John before slamming the door behind her.

"DAMMIT!" John roared as he shakily threw the letter down the staircase and practically collapsed against the nearby wall. He cursed under his ragged breath and slid down to a sitting position.

"John…" Sherlock dashed up to the doctor who seemed as though he was just falling to pieces. "John, calm down."

"She has NO right!" he growled in agony, burying his face in his hands. Sherlock felt a mixture of frustration and helplessness at the situation.

"Perhaps some soothing tea is in order…hmm?" Mycroft asked quietly, motioning towards the flat upstairs.

Xxxx

"The bastard hated me." John spat in agitation as he sat on the sofa uncomfortably. "For whatever reason, I was always the one to take his anger out on. Probably because I wasn't even supposed to be born…if they weren't so concerned for their social status, I would have been sent to a foster home within the week I left the hospital…" The tea on the table was untouched, as the trio all felt too sick to consume anything. "I was too young to understand that the treatment wasn't acceptable or normal…When I finally did figure it out, it was after nineteen years of Hell. The army was practically my savior. Everyone seemed ecstatic at the thought of me dying. So long as it got me out of their lives, it was alright."

"John…why did Harley visit today?" Sherlock asked delicately from beside him.

"She shouldn't have… but every year on Thanksgiving I'm given a sorry excuse for an apology from the family. Thanksgiving was the worst holiday I ever experienced." He mumbled.

"Why is that?" Mycroft asked, curious.

John chuckled almost darkly. "No one was thankful for what they had. It was always unlimited want for unnecessary things. I felt lucky to live in such a large house…which I found every Thanksgiving had very large, dark, and lonely closets…" Sherlock felt incredibly disgusted and pained as John continued. "I've associated Thanksgiving with memories of locked doors and abandoning… Which they try to take back every year just to gain what they can from me." John shook his head tiredly, "They can't take that back."

His gaze drifted towards the red letter that now sat on the table. "Every year it's lies. Filthy lies. This year went too far."

Sherlock swallowed down his growing hesitation and picked the crumpled envelope from the table for inspection. He glanced at John as if to ask "may I?".

"I don't care…" John sighed, exasperated. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in concern as he lifted the flap. Mycroft stood beside him and read the note.

_Johnny,_

_No matter where you go, or how long you leave, home will always be waiting for you. Been missing you-we need to catch up-father to son. I feel Thanksgiving this weekend would do well, after all, it's always been my favorite holiday as well as yours-yes? The past is behind us, and it is time to move forward to become a family again. _

_You are very loved,_

_Charles._

"He signs it wrong."

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked John.

"I was always told to address him as "Mr. Charles" or face punishment." He explained, lost in his thoughts and memories.

"I do find this rather repulsive…" Mycroft mumbled as he read the last line again. "Your sister seems to think fondly of this man."

"He manipulates her…spoils her…she never saw who he really was. I tried to save her from it. It obviously worked…" John sighed, looking shattered and simply in pain. "She never listened to me, even if it was for her own good. She hates me after every…thing…"

Sherlock felt horrible. "John..."

"I'm so sorry, you two…I never wanted this to happen." John massaged his forehead stressfully. "I have such a hard time being alone on Thanksgiving…"

"You're not alone, John." Sherlock shook his head sternly as he met the doctor's gaze. "You do have family…"

"Family is not defined purely by genetic relations." Mycroft smiled. "They are those who you care deeply for…those who mean the most in your life."

"You're not alone." Sherlock stated again, wanting to get the point across.

"I don't believe you ever will be from now on, John." Mycroft agreed.

"You two are my world…" John admitted. "I am eternally thankful to have you in my life." He nodded, feeling overwhelmed with emotions as he met Sherlock's caring gaze.

Suddenly, without warning, the detective pulled John into an oddly affectionate hug. John wasn't exactly sure how to react, but figured he was fine by the smug grin on Mycroft's face. "Um, Sherlock..?"

Sherlock chuckled and murmured fondly, "Happy Thanksgiving, John…"

**Hm. Bet ya didn't see this comin'...did you like it? Thought John could use some past stuff...and comfort from London's best detective and his brother! :)**

**Next holiday anyone? Any character you desire to include? I WILL UPDATE TOMORROW!  
**

**Guest reviews:  
**

**LoryLily: Oh I am so glad you think so! I thought Lily was pretty cute! She is certainly going to be in the Halloween oneshot! That is perfect!  
**

**ME a guest: Oh it is SO wonderful to hear from you! I love fanfiction breaks from school too! I also think Sherlock could be a good leading figure, but he may need some practice! :)  
**

**Moos: OH HELLOOOO! I missed you! I am so glad you like Lily! I enjoy the thought of Sherlock having a connection with a young girl to be so realistic but cute! I find it sad Lily is ignored too...perhaps Sherlock can change this? :)  
**

**REVIEWS =LOVE!  
**


	3. Halloween All Hallow's Eve

**I hope you guys aren't too mad at me...Please do forgive the late updates, but I'm glad I'm getting into a habit here of updating! It will get better!**

**Anyway, today's holiday was requested by ME a guest and LoryLily, I hope you like! This chapter is for you!  
We're gettin' through these nicely! I am so excited! :)  
**

**BIG HUGS to ME a guest, neva-chanluvsmonsters101, Aviatress, Moos (guest), johnsarmylady, and all those favoriting and following!  
**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, I made sure to add fluff, humor, and some murder (it is Halloween!)!  
**

***Dressed as a pirate with my Pirate Buddy* "This is SO much fun... I love this!"  
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***friend* "Me too! What should we steal first? Gold? Jewels?"  
**

***me* "SHERLOCK."  
**

***friend* "But-"**

***me* "WE ARE STEALING SHERLOCK FIRST. END OF STORY!" (Buuuttt I still don't own it...)  
**

**My friends are so awesome for putting up with me. :)  
I'm done talking, enjoy!  
**

**Sherlock Holidays: Happy All Hallows' Eve  
**

**Happy All Hallows' Eve = 18 letters + 1 punctuation mark = 1,900 words  
**

John held his breath in anticipation as the main character in his book entered the room where the enemy was undoubtedly waiting to strike. He wasn't usually one to read suspenseful horror stories, but he figured it would be a refreshing change-and what better time to read such a book than on Halloween evening? The flat was eerily quiet and dimly lit with candles, adding a creepy sense to the thrilling novel. For a second John had even thought he had heard footsteps subtly creeping behind him.

His eyes widening, John flipped the page excitedly as the story's character suddenly turned around to his horror to face-

"**BOO!"**

"Holy sh-!"The doctor jumped in alarm, dropping his book and collapsing over the side of the chair, his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing rapid as he landed on the ground. "The HELL, Sherlock!?"

"Y-you're so -" the detective sputtered from behind the armchair, attempting to contain his laughter as John sat up, still a bit shaken. "-ju-jumpy-John!"

"God, you're such an arse!"

Sherlock gave up holding it in and burst into a fit of laughter as he rested his forehead on the chair's back, "I-I'm sorry!" he giggled.

"Don't say you're sorry when you're not!" John scolded, beginning to snigger himself. "I swear you're going to kill me one of these days!"

"No, no, this was merely the perfectly timed special occasion, John." Sherlock chuckled, his frosty eyes sparkling as he met the doctor's gaze. "It's no fun being bored on Halloween…"

"I don't care how bored you are, don't scare the Hell out of me for your enjoyment!"

Sherlock sighed but smiled. "Fiiiiiinnneee...what time is Lily due to arrive?"

"God, if I didn't know any better I would think you were more excited than she was." John chuckled, standing to pick up his book and toss it onto the side table. "Lestrade said she'd be here by eight thirty, sooo…" he checked his watch, "…about five minutes, give or take. You better not scare _her_ though; she'll take no mercy on you."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Sherlock winked, standing himself and stalking over to the window. "However I've come to the conclusion we may have her overnight, given the fact alcohol is being served at Lestrade's "costume party"…"

"I don't mind as long as you don't." John smiled, remembering the last time Lily had spent the night at Baker Street. The three had never had so much fun playing "I Spy" ever before in their lives… the seven year old somehow knew just how to make the detectives unwind for once.

Sherlock grinned at the doctor, secretly excited for the little Lestrade's arrival. "I certainly don't mind…she doesn't snore."

John raised an eyebrow and shook his head confusedly. "Sherlock, YOU snore!"

"That's beside the point."

"How is that beside -" John was cut off by the knocking at the front door.

"Sherlock?" their landlady called from the other side.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock replied as John hastily strode to the door.

"Someone's here to see you two, dearie!" she chuckled happily as John opened the door. To Sherlock's joy, there was a familiar little blonde girl standing in its frame, next to a smiling Mrs. Hudson.

"Uncle John!" Lily squealed in delight as she ran into John's welcoming arms, "Happy Halloween!"

"Happy Halloween, Lily." John smiled as Lily gave him a warm hug. He nodded to their landlady in thanks as she descended the stairs.

"Lookie at my costume Uncle John-do you like it? Do you?" Lily giggled, stepping back and spreading her arms dramatically as she twirled for John to see all views. "Guess who I am? Guess!"

John chuckled as Lily struck a bold pose in her costume. She had intricately designed silver plastic knight's armor that was easy for her to bend and move in, and barely made noise as she did so. It gave her a very tough looking appearance despite the absence of a helmet, which let her hair fall down to her back in a neat braid.

"You're a knight?" John asked, chuckling as Lily rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Uncle Joooooohhn, I'm not just a knight!"

"Are youuuu…a silver knight?" John teased as Lily giggled.

"No Uncle John!"

"Well you are silver colored, right?" the doctor pointed out as Sherlock snuck behind Lily. "And you are a knight?"

"Nonsense, John!" The detective swooped the little adventurer into his arms and twirled her around in a fatherly fashion as she squeaked in surprise and joy. "She's our own Ms. Joan of Arc!"

"You got it Uncle Sherlock!" she giggled as she held tight onto his arms. "I'm Lily of Reichenbach! Do you like my costume?!" Sherlock felt incredibly warm and content as he plopped himself on the couch with Lily on his lap. "Do you?"

"I find it wonderful, Lily," he chuckled as John shut the door and flicked on a lamp.

"Oh good, because Mommy didn't like it…"

"Why not?" John asked.

"She wanted me to be something stupid, like a princess or a fairy or what 'other girls like'. Princesses are weak and scaredy-cats, Knights are strong and brave and stuff." Lily explained, looking up at Sherlock with honest eyes.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and slightly tilted his head in thought. "I do believe it's those who are inside the knight armor that are brave and strong, Lily." He wasn't a big fan of Carol's forced influence on their little blonde solider. Lily-of all people-didn't deserve restricted imagination or forced feelings.

Lily nodded in understanding, "I guess so…not all knights are nice…"

John chuckled and ruffled her hair as he sat next to Sherlock. "No, Lily, not all knights are nice…"

"But all detectives are nice," she said softly, resting her head under Sherlock's chin comfortably. "Especially you guys."

John grinned.

"And all Lily's of Reichenbach are lovely as well…" Sherlock sighed in contentment.

Xxxxx

"Oh, God, don't do it…" John whispered to himself as he was once again engulfed in his horror novel. The flat was silent, save for the slow and steady breathing of Sherlock and Lily, who were lying snuggled with one another under a blanket on the couch. They simply looked adorable with Sherlock nuzzled into her golden hair and the various playing cards scattered before them as they lightly snored. Sleep got the better of the two in the middle of an intense game of some sort…

"Ooohh, don't do it…" John mumbled again, unaware he was talking to himself. He gnawed at his lower lip as the main character felt hands on his shoulders and turned to come face to face with-

"SHERLOCK!" Lestrade suddenly burst loudly through the door.

"The HELL-" John practically hurdled out of his chair for a second time, his book flying across the room in the process. "_Jesus_, are you two _**plotting**_ this against me?" he hissed, lowering his voice as Sherlock and Lily stirred in their sleep.

"Sorry-but this is important-there was-"

"-is it _truly_ necessary to arrive at such a late time when morning is merely _hours_ ahead?" Sherlock snapped, groggily sitting up and glaring at Lestrade as Lily sleepily blinked to consciousness.

"Uncle Greg?" she mumbled, "Do I have to go already?"

Lestrade puffed out his cheeks. "M-U-R-D-E-R," he spelled, "Just happened-I need two-now."

To everyone's surprise, Lily answered first. "Uh oh…murder. Who did it?" she asked, apparently unfazed.

"That's what we're going to find out," Sherlock reassured her with a smile, scooping her into one arm and catching his coat from John with the other. "Where?" he asked Lestrade.

"Wait, Lily shouldn't-" he started, following the trio as they already descended the staircase.

"_Where." _Sherlock ordered, wrapping his scarf around Lily as they stepped outside into the crisp London air.

Lestrade sighed and walked to the driver's side of his car. "7860 Fellison Street…two dead, no clues left behind."

"That's what you think…" Sherlock smirked.

Xxxxx

"Here…" Lestrade led the trio to an open ballroom. Plastic cups littered the floor along with two bodies near the center of the room, a man dressed as a skeleton and another as a doctor. Both were covered in blood. "Lily, I think you should wait outside-"

"Whaaat?!" She whined in disbelief. "I think I should stay and solve it!"

"God, what did you do to her?" Lestrade chuckled and placed his hands over his pockets as he glanced at the bodies again.

"What happened exactly?" John asked, slightly unnerved at the sight, recalling his book.

"Lights shut off for no reason, not a minute later they're back on and …this." He shook his head, confused and tired. "We don't have absolute identification yet, but we know they were brothers, Bruce and Tony Carlson, I believe..."

"I see…" Sherlock murmured thoughtfully, deducing as fast as he mind would let him. It was obvious the skeleton man, Tony, was the main victim, his multiple stab wounds still gurgling blood to his disgust. He noted the bruises along his neck as well. Looking carefully, he raised an eyebrow at the doctor dressed man, Bruce. "Those bloodstain splatters pattern indicate they came from an alternate source rather than the man himself…" he gestured.

"It was him. He did it." Lily said seriously, pointing an accusing finger at Bruce Carlson.

"Ah, and what led you to that conclusion, Lily?" Sherlock asked with interest.

"He's alive." She said simply. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and looked to John who shrugged and glanced at the bodies.

"Lily, honey..." Lestrade began with a sigh.

John knelt to inspect the body further, carefully lifting the bloodstained doctor coat and standing in surprise after observation. "She's right…this man is alive." He shook his head in disbelief.

"What? You're kidding."

"Nope…there's a faint pulse, and he's subtly breathing." John replied.

"How?"

" He's in a drug induced sleep…" John informed.

"It makes sense now." Sherlock stated, squeezing Lily's hand proudly.

"How so?" Lestrade inquired again.

"Bruce killed his brother to claim his insurance money-neither liked the other anyway."

"How do you know that?" John asked.

"I talked to their sister, Laura, outside."

"Then why is he drugged and asleep?!" Lestrade rubbed his forehead stressfully.

"The fact the lights were off for less than a minute gives that away, he had the entire event planned out perfectly. Switch off the lights, quietly strangle his brother and kill him. Next step was to ingest sleeping drugs to disguise himself with the impression of a dead body in order to escape once he was brought to the morgue within the next few hours for investigation, where he would escape."

"Damn." Lestrade said simply. "Well he'll be surprised to wake up in handcuffs…"

"I toooollldd yoouuuu…" Lily said, resting her head against Sherlock's shoulder, looking completely drained.

"Indeed you did, Lily…very well done." Sherlock grinned, feeling a sense of pride for their young detective.

"Lily, honey, it's waaaaaayyyyy past you're bedtime…are you ready to go home?" Lestrade asked, subconsciously yawning.

"I wanna go sleep at Uncle John and Uncle Sherlock's home…please?" she begged with big blue puppy eyes.

Lestrade sighed and half smiled, "Would you two mind extending her Halloween visit?"

John grinned excitedly at Sherlock, "I don't think we'll mind."

"YAY! Happy Halloween!"

Sherlock chuckled at Lily's squeak of joy and held her close with a warm feeling inside his chest. Something about her just made him smile. "And Happy All Hallows' Eve…"

**D'awww...Thought fluff end would cheer you guys up. Did it? :)**

**Soooo I have been gettin' these two holiday's many times, let us choose: Valentine's Day or St. Patrick's Day next? What character should make an appearance? :D I am so excited!  
**

**Guest Reviews:  
**

**Moos: I know, poor John. That is very true, he is surrounded by many people who care for him dearly, whether they show it or not. I find it amazing to think of all those who care for me and sometimes I take that for granted. I'm pretty sure Sherlock's threats and Mycrofts stand in power will stop John's family from any other interference! :)  
**

**ME a guest: Hahaha I know, Sherlock is so funny when he's so blunt like that. It's like he can only talk in facts! :P Oh that's true...but I just love Thanksgiving. It's the perfect excuse to stuff yourself, if nothing else! :D hahaha! Really? John's sister is named Harriet? I honestly had no idea! I just created the name Harley, but wow! I did not know that! (You're so smart in the world of Sherlock!) Thank you so much for your patience, too buddy, you're so awesome! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
**

**REVIEWS = LOVE!  
**


	4. Saint Patrick's Day

**I'm so sorry for the late update! I made this chapter VERY VERY long to make up for it! I can promise updates will be much sooner now!**

**The most votes went to Saint Patrick's Day, because everyone wanted a certain Irish man to make an appearance, so HERE HE IS! HUZZAH!  
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**Thank you sooo much to theAwesomeReader, Arty Diane, Moos (guest), ME a guest (I just remembered that! You're so awesome!), neva-chanluvsmonsters101, Aivatress, Kibster12, Fairyfriender, austria's-nocturne, and all those favoriting and following!  
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***sees Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as Sherlock and John acting in the streets* "YO!" *runs up to them* "I WANT TO OWN YOU!"  
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**Buuuut I don't...aaaanndd that would be quite awkward!  
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**Okay, I'm done talking please enjoy!  
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**Sherlock Holiday Celebrations: Happy Saint Patrick's Day, My Good Friend  
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**Happy Saint Patrick's Day, My Good Friend =33 letters + 2 punctuation marks=3,500 words  
**

"Sherlock, dearie are you alright?" Mrs. Hudson asked with concern as the detectives stumbled though the 221B doorway.

"Never been better, Mrs. Hudson- goodnight!" Sherlock said sweetly, planting a kiss on their landlady's cheek and hustling up the stairs before another word could be said.

"Oh! Goodnight, love…" she chuckled as the door to the flat upstairs closed. "…John-"

The doctor shrugged off his coat and smiled. "-It's taken care of, Mrs. Hudson…He'll thank his lawyer one day." John's eyebrows furrowed as he smirked. "…actually he probably won't…"

"Oh, John he's thankful, he really is…"

"I know, Mrs. Hudson." John chuckled.

"Why, I don't know what I'd do if I was in such a case and didn't have you there!" she said as John began ascending the stairs himself. "I'm sure you could win any jury over, dearie."

"I wouldn't count on it, Mrs. Hudson…we were lucky this time." John replied, grinning as Mrs. Hudson waved it off and winked goodnight. With a sigh, the doctor opened the door and hung his coat as he entered the flat. "You know that, right?" he told Sherlock, who was slumped on the sofa, looking distressed.

"I know countless things…" Sherlock moaned as he closed his eyes, flipping over on his stomach. "…what exactly are you referring to, John?"

"Sherlock, we were unbelievably fortunate to get off the way we did…"

"Nonsense-it wasn't our fault in the first place-we were innocent."

John sighed again. "Sherlock, it was _your_ trial…not mine."

"We could have easily made the argument that the moron locked himself in the closet out of sheer-"

"-_and_ he caused the vandalism of the broken equipment? No one's going to believe that, Sherlock…"

The tall detective pressed his face into a pillow and groaned. "It was necessaaarryyyyyyy…." His muffled voice whined.

John rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead stressfully. "You know that, and I know that, but the rest of the world doesn't understand it…that includes Judge Harold."

Sherlock raised his head to look up at his flatmate. "With your intellectual arguments I would be surprised if they _didn't_ understand, John…"

The doctor sighed again. When March crept up on the two and Saint Patrick's Day rolled around, he was not expecting to be spending the majority of the holiday defending Sherlock Holmes against multiple trespassing and destruction of property charges in court. John wasn't a lawyer, but he wasn't ignorant in the way of the judicial system either, so he managed to pull the stubborn detective out of it. This wasn't easy, considering Sherlock's habits of reciting deductions when he was frustrated with the court…which seemed to be at what felt like the most inconvenient times. "I told you, we were lucky…" he stated, just thankful they were both home again.

"Not luck, John," Sherlock smiled, his frosty eyes sparkling as he recalled just how loyal and devoted the doctor proved he was merely hours ago. "-simply incredible faith in a friend…"

John rolled his eyes, but was smiling proudly anyway as he glanced towards the kitchen. "Well, the fridge is once again empty of anything edible, so I'll be back in a few…you need anything?"

"Two bottles of vinegar and paprika would be appreciated, if convenient."

John just shook his head and slipped his coat back on. "I find anything besides having to ask for swine stomach fluids convenient these days, Sherlock."

The detective chuckled. "I did promise I would do those errands myself from now on."

"And you're keeping that promise." John smiled, exiting and briskly descending the stairs.

Xxxxx

Sherlock sighed noisily; his limp figure still sprawled on the sofa. The flat felt drained of its warmth the second the door closed behind John. This was certainly a new feeling…

He realized it had been only fifteen minutes since the doctor's departure.

Perhaps this was what loneliness was…

"Joooohhnnn…" the detective whined into the silence, closing his eyes burying his face into the pillow again. What felt like hours later, he lifted his head and glanced at the clock. It had now been twenty minutes. "Grrrrruummpphhh…."

"My goodness, _some_one's grumpy today, hmm?" a familiar voice chuckled as the door creaked open. "Or are we just _bored_?" a lean figure stepped into the detective's peripheral vision, hands in pockets.

Sherlock shot up to a defensive standing position within the second, almost not believing what he was seeing.

"Surprise!" Jim Moriarty squeaked, rocking back and forth on his feet as alive as ever. "Aren't you happy to see me?" Sherlock glared daggers at the villain as he continued, "Oh come on, I came alllll the way back from the '_dead'_ to see you…perhaps we can catch up and have some fun together!"

"Our personal views of 'fun' differ greatly." Sherlock said calmly, subtly stepping backwards. Jim Moriarty was alive… right in _front of him_.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong…we're _so_ alike, Sherlock…if you were a bit more attractive we could almost be considered _twins_…" he hissed with a smile, forming and popping a gum bubble coolly.

"You and I may as well be considered the _definition_ of contrast." Sherlock spat, not even tolerating the thought of being similar to this…monster.

"Let's not get carried away, Sherlock…we were both dead and now alive…" Moriarty cocked his head with a grin as he slowly stepped closer to the detective. "And….I know for a fact you enjoy games just as much as I do…_Wanna play_?" he whispered ominously, his face now merely inches from Sherlock's as they made eye contact. If looks could kill, Moriarty would have fallen dead on the spot.

"Sherlock," John's voice echoed from the staircase. The detective inwardly cursed as Moriarty spun on his heels and practically skipped towards the door as John entered. "You won't believe this, but they were out of-_Hooollyy_ shit!"

"Surprise, John!" Moriarty yelled gleefully as he spread his arms dramatically.

"No, no-no-no," John said in a jumble, snatching his handgun from his inner coat pocket and aiming it at Moriarty's forehead. "H-how…Wh-what the hell are you … doing here?" he choked, unable to process the situation.

"Just thought I'd drop in for my favorite holiday, John! Let's _celebrate_!" he hissed excitedly, apparently unafraid of the weapon in the doctor's hand. "I've found it MUCH more fun to be alive than dead…wouldn't you _agree_, Sherlock?" Moriarty turned to the detective, who he found had his own handgun poised to kill.

"You're dead." John shook his head, still in disbelief.

"Never was, John." Moriarty whispered darkly, slowly turning his head to see Sherlock, who's gun never flinched from position. "Let's not make any _fooolllish_ decisions now, boys…Daddy just wants to have some _fun_ today_…"_

Sherlock's gaze narrowed in suspicion at just how calm Moriarty seemed. Something was afoot…but what could he possibly have planned this time?

John shook his head again and placed his finger on the trigger. "You're _supposed_ to be dead…"

Their enemy chuckled as he chewed his gum loudly. "If I was dead, John…" he began, glancing to Sherlock to reveal a small black remote with a single button in its center. Turning back to John, he grinned wickedly. "…Could I do this?" he whispered, pressing the button before either detectives had a chance to take action.

John immediately felt his entire body tremble as a burning sensation crept up his spine. His vision blurred and his breathing felt constricted, as if something had just sucked up all the air from the room. Suddenly, every cell in John's body was screaming in agony. His insides felt on fire, and an unbelievable aching sensation practically numbed him to the bone. He could have sworn he was being stabbed repeatedly in his lungs, if he didn't know any better. His legs gave out and he collapsed the floor in excruciating unfamiliar pain.

"John?" Sherlock asked worriedly, stepping forward as he witnessed the doctor's sudden fall.

"Funny…isn't it?" Moriarty asked quietly, cocking his head as he calmly watched John writhe and choke in torment.

"John, JOHN!" Sherlock cried, running to kneel at the doctor's side and lightly shaking his shoulders, not knowing what to do. "John, what's wrong?!"

"Uh oh…" Moriarty's eyebrows crinkled as he looked to Sherlock, who seemed to be just fine. "Someone didn't drink the water provided at the courtroom today, did they? Shoouuuld haaaave knoooown…" he cheeped.

"What did you _do_?!" Sherlock hissed furiously, feeling sick to his stomach as the doctor clutched his sides and grimaced again with a pitiful whimper. He had never seen John in any state near this, and it scared him knowing there was nothing he could do to help ease the horrific pain. Sherlock couldn't imagine how agonizing John was feeling; the doctor could barely make a sound, let alone speak.

"Now, now, it isn't _that_ horrid…" Moriarty grinned mischievously, obviously enjoying what he was seeing.

Sherlock stood in a flash and clutched Jim's collar as he pointed his handgun to the side of his head. "_What have you done?" _he seethed threateningly.

To his frustration, Moriarty laughed. "If you had only had a drink, you would know, now wouldn't you?"

Sherlock froze in realization, remembering the untouched cup of water in the court earlier that day. No wonder it never left his side…. Moriarty contaminated it, it was intentional. Sherlock never drank it, but John had tiredly accepted the mug of coffee offered that morning...

Sherlock snapped out of his memories as he heard John uncharacteristically whine in suffering.

"Fix it…NOW." He growled menacingly in Moriarty's face.

"Well well!" Jim giggled, pleased with the reaction he was getting. "I was right after all-you do have a heart, Sherlock!"

The detective tightened his grip on Moriarty's collar, and placed his finger on the handgun's trigger. "STOP THIS-_NOW!_"

"Uh oh, is someone getting flustered?" Moriarty said in a sarcastically sad tone, jutting out his lower lip dramatically.

"YOU-" Sherlock heatedly began.

"-Well it isn't SO bad, is it?!" Jim interrupted, forcefully pushing Sherlock back and spreading his arms theatrically. "As long _his_ life depends on me," he gestured to the miserable doctor, never breaking his eye contact with Sherlock. "I control both of you in the most _wicked_ way…Mmm-hmmm, it works out even better than I had plaaaaanned!" he hauntingly sang.

"End it. Now." Sherlock ordered his enemy, his finger still on the trigger.

"What's the magic wooorrrrdd?" Moriarty grinned.

"Help him or I shoot you..."

"Shoot me and you bury your friend…your choice, really…"

Sherlock heard a desperate gasp behind him, and glanced at John, who was fading fast. The realization of just how dire this situation was hit him in a split second, and he rushed back to John's side. "John, stay with me, don't close your eyes-John, stay awake!" he lifted the doctor's upper body in one arm and forced his friend to face him with the other. "John-blacking out is not an option." He ordered as John grimaced in pain once more.

"Aw, too bad…I liked John." Moriarty shrugged. "Oh well…" he squeaked.

"John, stay with me," Sherlock kept his frosty eyes sternly on his flatmate's. John coughed and unwillingly stopped breathing altogether. His vision was fading, and Sherlock knew he was lucky to have a minute left. "Enough!" he commanded.

"Say the magic word and Daddy will heeelllppp," Moriarty sang.

Sherlock's heart skipped a beat as John went limp in his arms. "_**PLEASE**_!" he croaked desperately, feeling broken inside at the mere thought of John's absence in his life. If anyone, _he_ would be the one slowly dying of loneliness each day… "JUST STOP!"

"Hmmm….fiiiiiinnnneee." Moriarty chuckled, pulling a separate blue remote from his jacket and pressing its button. "Only because you asked so nicely!"

For one precious moment, all was eerily quiet.

His breathing in soft gasps, Sherlock closed his eyes and lowered his head in pure relief as unconscious John's chest began to steadily rise and fall.

"Well…" Moriarty chirped, breaking the silence. "This has been fuuunn!"

Sherlock cursed under his breath, wishing Moriarty would just disappear, for good this time. "Why?" he asked simply.

"Why not?" Moriarty whispered back.

Sherlock would _not_ tolerate _anyone_ controlling his best friend. Ever. "Go to Hell…" The detective spat, not caring how stupid he sounded.

"Where do you think I come from?" Moriarty chuckled wickedly as he gestured towards the door, still holding John's life remote threateningly in hand. "Shall we?"

Xxxxx

Pain.

An agonizing, unbearable, awful pain that rattled his entire body.

What made it all the more excruciating was the fact it lingered after it was over, even in his sleep.

It was a nagging, persistent ache that came from the core of his chest and lungs, and radiated to every part of his body it could reach. John drifted in and out of consciousness, at one point he found himself in a car of some sort…

And later, what he could have sworn was a hospital room…

Xxxxx

"I've never seen you so emotional before, Sherlock…At first I wasn't sure you had any feelings in the first place…" Moriarty grinned, stalking a circle around Sherlock, who sat in a chair in a calm and collective manner. "Then again, I always knew you had a soft spot for me…didn't you?"

"The only place I wish to keep such a place for you would be in the superfluous part of my mind." The detective spat, his voice slightly echoing. The extremely dim lighting and windowless navy blue walls created an ominous and uncomfortable atmosphere. Sherlock's thoughts, however, kept straying to the status of John, who, to his horror, was left at the flat.

"That's not very niiiceee…" he sarcastically whined, slouching his shoulders and pouting. In a split second he dramatically stepped forward and leaned right into Sherlock's face. "Especially after how _nice_ I was to YOU?" he yelled.

"Of the multiple adjectives to describe you, 'nice' is not one I find myself referring to…"

A grin cracked across Moriarty's face his piercing eyes met with Sherlock's frustrated icy ones. "Well then…How _would_ you describe me, Sherlock?" he asked, expecting the answer to be another long, angry silence.

To his surprise, Sherlock snickered. "You?" He chuckled darkly, his penetrating gaze slightly intimidating his enemy. "I would describe you as the most interesting man in the world, if I didn't know any better…"

"And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Know It All?" Moriarty asked warily, returning to a standing position.

"Of all people I would think you would know exactly what I mean…You're different…" Sherlock's gaze narrowed as Moriarty grinned again.

"I knew you'd figure it out sometime, Sherlock… of course it only took the-"

"However," The detective interrupted, standing confidently and glaring at his enemy, "Different does not always mean interesting, now does it?"

Moriarty smirked, "So you're saying I'm not interesting to you?"

"I'm saying from experience I have found many people far more interesting than you will ever be, most of which don't need money or power to seem so." Sherlock stepped forward, looking at a stage much far beyond anger.

"I find those to be a plus, really…"

"I find them unnecessary."

"And who are these 'other people'? Your little Johnny flatmate? Or that obsessive, annoyingly shy mortician down the road? Or perhaps your bothersome police authority companion?" Moriarty chuckled as Sherlock's hands clenched into fists.

"All of the above are _far_ more interesting and remarkable than you could ever _hope_ to be."

"And what makes you say that?" Jim asked as the two came face to face once more.

"None of them are close to being as nauseatingly repulsive, imprudent, or obnoxious as you have proved yourself to be-"

"-Oh, come now, Sherlock, you know you don't mean-"

"-furthermore each one of those mentioned intrigue me more than you ever have and ever will, every one of them actually _mean __something__ to me_." Sherlock growled, his frosty gaze finally penetrating Moriarty's.

"And from your experiences with me…" he whispered, "I'm nothing compared to them? You're kidding yourself, Sherlock…"

"It's you who is deceiving themselves…" Moriarty scolded himself for shivering as the detective giggled, "Why, you're the most uninteresting individual I have had the displeasure of meeting…As you're existence deteriorates from the outside world-your presence will no longer linger in my mind."

"I'll always be there in your-"

"But you won't!" Sherlock laughed again, "You mean nothing to me anymore, I can safely state:" he whispered darkly, "You are the last thought on my mind…"

Moriarty opened his mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted as Sherlock hissed in his ear, _"You're boring to me…"_

It was as if someone had wiped Moriarty's entire slate to a blank. The satisfaction was gone, there was no joy in the pursuit…it was gone. He was what he had always loathed: a normal boring, human. Sherlock Holmes cracked Jim Moriarty for good.

Now, Moriarty wasn't able to process all this at the given moment, but he knew that twisted feeling in his gut was not a sign of victory.

"Shouldn't have said that…" he said, backing up. "Daddy's angry now…" Sherlock felt his heart thud in his chest as Moriarty slid a familiar black remote from his pocket. "I suppose if I get rid of an 'interesting person' in that 'heart' of yours, I can squeeze back in his place, hmm?"

"There will never be a place for you there…" Sherlock stated gravely, shaking his head.

"I guess we'll just have to see about that, now WON'T WE?!" Moriarty screeched heatedly, taking out the two remotes and waving it teasingly in the air. Sherlock lunged forward, but it was too late. The remotes sailed across the room, shattering to hundreds of pieces as it collided with the stone wall.

Breathing heavily, Moriarty tore his gaze from the shards and looked with satisfaction to Sherlock's face. His stomach twisted when the detective smirked.

"It' all in here…" He chuckled, tapping the side of his head and stepping back just as the heavy metallic door behind him gave a screech and clattered to the floor. "Without you…"

For the first time in his life, James Moriarty was frozen. He did nothing but sit as Lestrade roughly slid the handcuffs to his hands and eventually followed his enemy out the room, leaving Jim to the mercy of Sally Donavan and Anderson…

"…I'll find my way back into your head…" He whispered ominously.

Xxxxx

"I suppose now is just as good as any time to explain, brother?" Mycroft softly asked Sherlock, who sat next to him in a matching white chair in the hospital room. It was a calming, quiet room, one that only high government security should reach, Mycroft made sure of that. "Your text was quite a surprise; I will say…however I am intrigued as to what I am missing." Mycroft edged on, turning his gaze from the patient status monitor to Sherlock as he subconsciously twirled his cane beside him.

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn't said anything since he had joined his brother in watching slumbering John slowly recover... "There were obvious signs of Cyanide poisoning to begin with, but he had chemically modified it to control its enzymes effect so he could control it as he pleased. It could only be ingested, which was later proven for the fact it's soluble in water…"

"Which John ingested." Mycroft nodded.

"Unintentionally… he probably wouldn't have had such tasteless coffee if he wasn't so stressed over defending me over-"

"Don't you dare for one second make this your fault." Mycroft interrupted sternly, "This was a psychotic mad-man that simply seized an opportune moment you couldn't have possibly prepared yourself for."

Sherlock sighed softly, "Yet-"

"Do not blame yourself. Understood?" Mycroft asked in a brotherly fashion.

Sherlock inhaled deeply. "Understood." He smiled softly. "Thank you…" he mumbled a few minutes later.

"For what?"

"For…this." Sherlock gestured to the entire room.

"No need for thanks, brother…" Mycroft smiled, patting Sherlock's hand somewhat awkwardly. Sherlock got the message anyway, and felt immensely better.

The detective lost track of time as he observed John's sleeping form. He knew the doctor was going to be fine, but found himself worried anyway. Eventually, he had watched until his body couldn't take it anymore and fell asleep.

Xxxxx

"Sherlock…" Mycroft gently nudged Sherlock's shoulder. "Brother…" he chuckled as the detective groggily blinked to consciousness. Sherlock sprang off of Mycroft's shoulder he was previously sleeping on without realizing it.

"What?" he murmured.

"John's awake."

"What. The Hell…" a familiar voice hissed in pain.

"JOHN!" Sherlock exclaimed excitedly, dashing to kneel at the hospital bed and grasping the doctor's hand as he sat up, "John-are you alright?!" he asked worriedly, his frosty eyes joyfully drinking in the sight of his friend awake.

"I feel like shit." John mumbled honestly.

Sherlock chuckled gleefully and rested his forehead on John's hand in pure relief. "He's alright…" he murmured happily to himself rather than anyone around him.

"Mycroft?" John asked, noticing the other Holmes sitting in his chair.

Mycroft grinned. "Happy Saint Patrick's Day, my good friend."

**If you squint you can see the friendship fluff!**

**Alright, to apologize I shall update incredibly soon! The next requested holiday is Valentines!  
**

**Who should we bring into this holiday? :)  
**

**Reviews = LOVE!  
**


	5. Saint Valentine's Day

**I owe you all an apology...**

**I really didn't mean to update so late, I am so so so sorry! I PROMISE I will never update this late again! **

**Homecoming week just meant more homework, I guess...blehhh... And now our computer laptops block Fanfiction. Jerks.**

**ANYWAY!**

**To make it up, I spent a lot of time expanding this chapter to its full potential because I wanted to let you all know how much you mean to me! Each one of you holds a very special place in my heart. Thank you all so much!**

**I wanted to dedicate this chapter to my friend ME a guest, who has been with me since the beginning of the Sherlock Alphabet and continues to support me. Your words mean so much to me, thank you! :)**

**ALSO A HUGE HUG TO Candle Brite, Fairyfriender, johnsarmylady, Aviatress, Arty Diane, Moos (guest), neva-chanluvsmonsters101, austria's-nocturne, and all those favoriting and following! You all mean so much to me! And your reviews make the writing go so much faster!**

**The clever Arty Diane gave the idea of doing snapshots, like in the movie Valentine's Day. So, I put a big underlining plot under a couple others and bam-hope you like it!**

**"Alright, so you're auditioning for this year's talent show with what, again, Rainbow?'  
**

***sits at piano* "Singing. (I can't sing, by the way...or play piano, for that matter) I call this one: I don't own Sherlock..."**

***teacher* 0_0**

**Sorry for talking for so long, I hope you enjoy this!**

**Sherlock Holidays: Happy Saint Valentine's Day, My Beloved...**

**Happy Saint Valentine's Day, My Beloved...=32 letters + 5 punctuation marks =3,700 words**

"Boooorrreeeddd…" Sherlock moaned once again, tossing a blue rubber ball against the far wall and catching it in perfect time as he sat on the opposite side of the living room.

"Congratulations…" John smirked, concentrating on the task at hand at the cluttered kitchen table. Hispaint brush strokes were precise and careful, which intrigued the detective.

"John, why are you painting the daisy?" Sherlock finally asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

John made one final stroke on a petal before switching to a smaller brush with a lighter pinkish red paint. "Because Sarah's favorite flowers are daisies…"

"Why paint one?"

"Her favorite colors are wine red and magenta…" John replied, carefully making dashes along each petal-the contrast between the reds making the daisy stand out from the rest of the bouquet on the table.

"I see…" Sherlock said, fumbling with the rubber ball in his hand. Why John did such…unneeded things, for Sarah had always baffled him. "…and what exactly does the new coloring of one daisy from the rest signify?"

"Well…" John sighed, delicately placing the painted daisy in the center of the white ones and making careful touches to make its presentation perfect. "It's supposed to symbolize that she stands out from everyone else…she's special…"

"How adorable…" Sherlock chuckled.

"You're just jealous," John smirked, slipping on his coat carefully with the bouquet in hand.

"Jealous?" Sherlock snorted, stretching his legs for what felt like the millionth time. "Saint Valentine's Day is hardly something to be enjoyed by those who have not felt what you call love, John…"

"Well, maybe today you can make the discovery." John rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"Joooohhhhnnnnn don't leeeaavee meeee…." Sherlock whined, knocking his head on the back of the wall. "Iiii'mm boorrreeed…."

John chuckled and stepped out into the hall. "Why don't you go visit Molly? She can probably help you with an experiment or something…"

"I suspect she'll be incredibly anxious to approach me on Valentine's…I'm not sure I want to experience her attempts at showing me what this holiday is about..."

John sighed and smiled. "Honestly, Sherlock, I think she just might be lonely today…" and with that, John shut the door and shuffled down the stair case, leaving an agitated and confused detective still slouching in the living room.

Xxxxx

"Um, Sarah?" John asked nervously as he knocked on the flat door for a second time. "…its John…"

Still no answer…

The doctor sighed and contemplated what to do. He wasn't late, he made sure this time, so where-

"Oh, John!" a familiar voice greeted from behind. "I am so sorry, SO sorry!" Sarah sighed, looking stressed as she shuffled forward with an overly-stuffed paper grocery bag in one arm and her bunched up keys in the other. "Buggers in line don't know how to scan their crap…" she mumbled, annoyed, as she struggled to fit her flat key in the slot.

John chuckled at that attitude he simply loved about her. "I'll trade you," he grinned, handing her the bouquet as he gently took the bag from her arm.

"Oh, John," Sarah whispered in awe, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the unique centered daisy. "…it's so beautiful…did you paint this?"

"Um, yeah…" John replied, feeling as though he were carrying a bag of rocks. "Oof…what exactly is…in here?"

"Only our entire dinner, John." Sarah giggled, opening the door and motioning to the table for John to rest the heavy load.

"Well I'm not sure if I'm able to eat so much…" John chuckled, sighing comfortably as his partner flicked on the lights and filled a vase with water.

"Well you certainly aren't expected to, love…" Sarah smiled, carefully arranging her daisies in the vase, her gaze drifting back to the painted flower again. "This is so beautiful…I love daisies…"

"And…red, right?"

"Yes, John, and red," Sarah giggled, "You got my favorite colors spot-on, you big over-achiever…I wish it would just stay blooming forever…"

"Well, not everything lasts forever," John inhaled deeply in content as Sarah snuggled into his arms happily.

"Oh I hope you're wrong…"

"Hmm?"

"I just always thought we would last forever…" Sarah sighed into John's sweater as she fondled with his sleeve. "…I guess that sounds childish…doesn't it?"

John furrowed his eyebrows in thought and stroked her soft red locks tenderly. "No…no, I don't find it childish…I think you're right."

John felt Sarah hug him tighter and grinned as their noses met. "You know the first rule about me…I'm always right…" she giggled, looking lovingly into John's eyes.

"Absolutely, your highness," John chuckled, "Happy Valentine's…"

"Ah, that reminds me-" Sarah's hazel orbs seemed to twinkle as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a small black box with a red ribbon bow tied on its top.

The doctor curiously opened the box and blinked numerous times at what he saw. It was one of the most handsome watches he had ever seen- its forest green strap emphasizing the shining silver trim, and the face actually having 24 numbers on its perimeter. "Sarah…" he breathed, not knowing what to say…she knew him so well.

"They don't make many army-time watches, but I was lucky." She explained, joyful at his reaction. "I really think its color suits you… like it?"

"Like it?" John echoed as he grinned, "I…wow, I just love it…Thank you so much."

"You are sooooo welcome…" Sarah giggled, snuggling back into his arms and kissing his nose affectionately, sending a warm feeling through John's body. "Happy Valentine's Day, my beloved…"

Xxxxx

"Valentine's…" Sherlock mumbled to himself for a hundredth time as he chucked the rubber ball at the wall again. The technical definition of the holiday was a day for the exchange of tokens of affection…but for some reason he felt it wasn't merely such… "Valentine's…" he said again, catching the ball right on cue.

Sherlock became increasingly curious as to the actual meaning of today, which escalated his impatience…not to mention he was a bit lonely, and bored out of his mind. Everyone he knew was spending the occasion with someone they appreciated…He looked to the door and inhaled deeply.

What better person to spend such a day with than Molly Hooper?

Xxxxx

Sherlock strolled through the halls of Saint Bart's Morgue and abruptly stopped at Molly's specific door. He inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the Valentine hug and chatter that was no doubt about to happen…Was this a good idea after all?

The detective turned to reconsider, but was stopped when he heard a sniffle from inside. Pausing where he was, he listened through the door. To his surprise, an angry sigh followed by an agonized groan emitted from the other side.

What was it John had seen earlier this evening?

Ah...that's right…' Molly just might be lonely today…'

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and curiosity. Molly…lonely on Valentine's Day? Why on earth would she be spending the day quietly crying alone in her lab?

Now, Sherlock hated not knowing the factors of a situation, or even the full situation, for that matter…Especially when it involved someone important to him. So, without further hesitation, Sherlock slipped through the door and into the Pathologist's lab. "Molly…?" He quietly called, curious as to just why the place was darkened and unreasonably cold. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume there was no one inside the gloomy room…

"L-love is…painful…" a soft voice whimpered from around the corner. "Love..i-is…s-stupid…"

Cautiously making his way to the back of the lab, Sherlock felt a pang of sympathy and worry as he found the Pathologist huddled in a darkened corner, her trembling hands holding a pencil and sketchbook as she made harsh marks across the paper. He didn't fail to notice the gloss over her eyes as she whispered to herself, "Y-you 're s-so…naïve, M-Molly…stupid, s-stupid, s-stupid g-girl…"

"Molly?"

"Oh!" she squeaked, startled and looking a bit flustered as she scrambled to stand, sending all her loose sketches showering onto the detective and then the floor in the process. "O-oh, n-no, I'm-I'm so s- sorry, I just, I-I'm sorry," She stumbled; obviously embarrassed as she attempted to snatch her pages up before they could be seen.

"It's alright, Molly," Sherlock reassured her, becoming increasingly worried when he noticed a stray paper by his foot…

Picking it up, he drank in the sketch's details and impressive techniques. However, he felt his stomach twist when he took the picture in as a whole.

"O-Oh, that's…that's nothing…" Molly lied, biting her lower lip anxiously as she shuffled her papers back into place.

Sherlock was no fool; this piece was most certainly anything but 'nothing'. The entire page was illustrated as what seemed to be a small containment room, with a broken, bleeding, and bruised woman in its corner, in a sitting fetal position with her nails digging frightfully into her own flesh. Her terrified eyes were peeking fearfully at the surrounding walls, which were completely covered in harshly engraved menacing words, ones such as "_suffering_", "_alone_", and "_help_" particularly standing out to the detective. Sherlock squinted to inspect the wounded cornered woman closer…his body almost froze at the realization that the illustrated woman was Molly…

The detective's gaze flickered worriedly to the pathologist's. "Molly-"

"-I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry you had to see that, I-" she muttered, snatching the paper before Sherlock could inspect it further and rushed to place it in a folder on the counter. "Wha-what do you need, Sh- Sherlock?" she asked, wiping her eyes dry.

"Molly, what was that?" Sherlock asked seriously, looking her square in the eyes.

"I..it was nothing-"

"Molly," Sherlock said sternly.

"P-please, I don't want to talk about it…J-just…I'll tell you later…" She nodded motioning towards the counter with the microscopes. "I-I got new…s-specimens…j-just for you."

Sherlock felt his chest become heavy with…pain, for Molly?

"W-would..you like to…see them?" Molly asked, a bit of hope shining in her eyes.

Sherlock curtly nodded, secretly feeling concerned. He would hold Molly to the promise of explaining

later…

He… needed to know.

To help her.

Xxxxx

A sudden knocking on the large cherry wooden door echoed off the otherwise quiet walls.

"Do come in…" Mycroft called from his desk, sifting through file after file, unable to find the particular classified information he desired.

"Boss?" A silky voice asked as a familiar figure stepped in from the room.

"Yes, dear?" Mycroft answered, using a pet name as he always did when the two were alone. It made him snicker to think of the fact John still didn't know "Anthea's" real name.

"Mister Jameson Howard asked for you to join him for tea this upcoming Saturday, if you were interested, that is…" she informed, "I wanted to make sure you were for it before I made any arrangements."

Mycroft smiled as he shuffled through another file. Always practical and yet so refreshing, she was. "I do believe tea would be quite delightful, love, thank you." He softly sighed as he tossed the unfulfilling papers aside. "I suppose you don't happen to have any idea where-" Mycroft stopped short as his assistant dug through a nearby stack of files and slipped one out, tossing it in front of him. "That's the one." he chuckled, wondering just how she did it sometimes…

She in turn smiled, feeling proud whenever she did something just right. "May I suggest a break sometime soon, Mr. Croft?" she asked, using a nickname to make sure she had his attention. "The weather outside is particularly nice for a February evening, it seems a shame to spend it indoors all night, wouldn't you agree?"

Mycroft smiled again, knowing this was her way of begging for a walk and a chat. "Is it truly so delightful outside, dear?" he smiled, watching her eyes fill with eagerness.

"I dare say it's the most pleasant night you will most likely ever experience these next few months…" she replied, fingering her BlackBerry with excitement.

"I see…" he chuckled, "Well…I do suppose it is just about the right time for a small resting period…"

"Superb idea, Mr. Croft…" his assistant squeaked, obviously excited to get out of the office and go for a refreshing stroll with her much loved boss. Mycroft had always felt honored she confided in him for comfort, advice, and simple chatting together over a cup of tea. Contrary to John's belief, "Anthea" wasn't always on her BlackBerry…she simply used it as much as she did when she wasn't wanting to talk to his clients. Mycroft thought she had the most beautiful chocolate eyes when she would look up from the screen and smile at him…

"Perhaps you would consider joining me, darling?"

"I would be delighted, Boss." His assistant grinned, already heading out the door to grab her shawl.

"Perhaps you would consider waiting for me as well?" Mycroft chuckled, picking up his cane and strolling after her. Although he may not admit it, she was one of his very best true friends he confided in. Certainly someone to cherish time with…

"I'm here!" his friend called from the front door.

"Well, love, if you are interested, I have left something for you on the side table in the living space…" Mycroft smiled.

His assistant's eyes lit up like a little girl on Christmas as she couldn't help herself from shuffling into the living space and making her way to the side table.

"Noooo," she gasped, gingerly picking up a luxurious glossy black phone-a top model, for sure.

"Indeed." Mycroft chuckled at her reaction as he stroked his cane.

"Oh…Boss…"she whispered, not knowing what to say as she investigated the personalized features and flower designed casing made just to her liking. "I…wow…"

"I do believe I've made someone speechless for once." Mycroft proudly smirked.

She shook her head as she walked up to her boss, still in awe. "This is my favorite part…" she stated.

"Which part?" Mycroft chuckled.

His assistant stroked the side of the case with engraved writing, knowing the words were chosen carefully and meaningfully. "This…" whispered, her eyes sparkling as she kissed Mycroft's cheek lovingly and gestured to the writing:

_Happy Saint Valentine's Day, My Beloved…_

Xxxxx

"Molly…" Sherlock mumbled as he inspected an intriguing subject under a microscope.

"Y-yes?" she squeaked, liking the distraction of the detective in her lab. "What can I get you?" she smiled.

"I'd like to know about earlier this evening…"

The room became quiet, and Sherlock looked up to see the silent pathologist trembling for no apparent reason.

"Molly?" he asked, concerned.

"Y-yes?" she whispered, biting her lower lip and looking... ashamed?

"Molly, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked, scanning her for a second time. Something was not right…she looked as though she was going to have a panic attack of some sort. "Molly?"

"N-nothing's wrong…d-do you need something?" She asked again, her voice cracking.

"I need…" Sherlock started, walking over to the adjacent counter and opening a particular folder. "…an explanation for this." He said, pulling the drawing that had been on his mind out of the folder and facing it towards Molly.

"It..it's just a s-sketch…I was…just…being dramatic." She lied. Sherlock felt his stomach twist again. "…that's all…"

"Molly, I want the truth."

"No, no you don't!" She whimpered, catching the detective a bit off guard. "No one wanted the truth, so I pretended like it was alright, but it's NOT alright!" Her quivering form caused her clipboard to clatter to the floor, along with some papers and pencils. "It's NOT OKAY!"

"Molly, I'm sorry-" Sherlock began, not knowing exactly what he did.

"No, no-no!" she shook her head, feeling sick to her stomach. "Sorry doesn't help an-anything! Sorry doesn't heal the c-cuts or bruises, or…or...the inside p-pain!" She sobbed, her knees weakening.

"Molly-" Sherlock started, running over just in time as the Pathologist fell into his arms.

"It's…it's not okay…" she whimpered again, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"Yes, Molly…it is okay…Molly look at me." Sherlock brushed a stray hair from her face. "It's okay now…"

"It w-will n-never be okay…" she cried into his chest, holding on tightly.

"What, Molly?" Sherlock tried a different approach, trying to be gentle. He felt as though she could crumble before him if he wasn't careful. "What will never be okay?"

"The p-pain…it wasn't okay t-to hurt m-me…" She sobbed, fully falling into the detective's arms. "It…it still hurts…" she whispered.

"Oh, Molly…" Sherlock murmured, trying to soothe her. "Shhh…it's alright now…"

"…I-is it?"

Sherlock just held her tighter.

Xxxxx

"His…his name is M-Michael…Michael Cornell…"

"Alright…" Sherlock edged on, nodding encouragingly. The two somehow found themselves back in the corner where Molly was alone earlier that night. She was currently snuggled on his lap, with his arms wrapped protectively around her. "…go on…"

"W-we met through a co-worker …at her…p-party…" Molly mumbled, "I never liked p-parties…b-but I hated them after this…"

"And why is that?"

"B-because I…I talked to him. And…he talked to me…and my co-worker gave him…my number." Molly swallowed hard.

"That wasn't their place to-"

"I knew that, and th-they knew that…b-but…it happened."

"Alright…alright." Sherlock slid his hands up and down Molly's shivering arms to calm her down. "Then what?"

"Then…after a few months of getting to…to know him." Molly inhaled deeply. "We began b-building a sort of…relationship."

"Hmm…"

"I was naïve..."

"Molly-"

"-and stupid…I should have known it right from the s-start but I d-didn't…I just kept…hoping."

"Hoping what?"

"Hoping that each time it…was… an accident…or it wasn't really him…b-but it was…"

"What was, Molly?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"The beatings…or–or the lashing-out b-because it was always "Molly's fault" …" The Pathologist shivered. "He would say he was 'so sorry' after each time…" Sherlock felt his heart practically break at the spot when she continued, "B-but it still hurt after th-the bruises and cuts h-healed…"

"How many times did this happen?" Sherlock asked delicately.

Molly sighed. "I-I couldn't keep track…It ended in J-January…b-because…because…" She tried, obviously not wanting to revisit the horrific memories.

"Because?"

"B-because I…I punched him back." She breathed, burying her face into her hands. "He…he didn't like that…"

"Molly-" Sherlock began, feeling incredibly sickened.

"-and he hurt me…s-so bad…I c-couldn't m-move anym-more…I had to go to the…the hospital." She shuddered. "It was…obvious it w-wasn't an a-accident, like he c-claimed…"

Sherlock felt his entire body tense at the new information. If only he had been there…

"S-so...I f-finally took him to court." Molly lifted her head and closed her eyes as she lightly gasped for air. "I-it was held on…V-Valentine's D-day."

"Molly, breathe…" Sherlock told her, brushing stray hair from her face as she struggled to steady her breathing. "Molly….it's alright…if you're done talking-"

"No, I…I need to s-say it…"

Sherlock nodded with an encouraging look in his frosty eyes.

"At the t-trial for the a-abuse…He…he…" She whispered.

Sherlock studied Molly's shivering form. Something incredibly big was about to be said. He smoothed his hand up and down along her back while holding her hand. "Molly…" he said with concern.

The Pathologist finally broke down into a flood of tears and emotions as she collapsed into his chest while whimpering just loud enough for him to hear, "He w-was f-found not guilty…"

Sherlock instantly felt as though the entire world had just gone completely _insane_.

She had to be _joking_.

"Molly-" he said, cupping a part of her face to look her in the eyes. "-how is that possible?!" There was more than enough evidence to convict the bastard, what could have gone wrong?!

"H-he had a p-perfect defense t-team and s-support…I h-had no one…"

"What about your-"

"M-my family was…a-ashamed, of me…they d-didn't want to b-believe the t-truth…" she sniffed, attempting to bottle her emotions back up. "I…I d-didn't know any f-friends at the t-time…The…jury thought I was j-just a…poor, d-delusional, lonely P-pathologist…h-he was the 'innocent' one…"

Sherlock felt incredible anger boil inside him. If he ever by any circumstances encountered this Michael Cornell monster…let's just say he wouldn't be getting off very easy this time…

"And n-now …he sends me…this." Molly spat as she shakily handed the detective her cell phone with a message on its screen.

It's words made Sherlock sick.

_Babe_

_I'm sorry…I never meant to do anything bad to you, I promise…_

_I'm in town for a few days…I miss you… Call me._

_Love you, Happy Valentine's_

_Michael_

"He g-got my new n-number…he…he knows where I am…" Molly whispered fearfully. "I…I just hate Valentine's Day…"

Sherlock felt his heart break for a second time. This was completely unacceptable. No one, and he meant _no one_ even _talked_ to Molly Hooper with such violent intentions. Ever.

"Molly..." He wiped the falling tears from her face gently with his thumb. "Molly-look at me…"

"I'm…I'm sorry…I should have j-just held it in…" she bit her lower lip anxiously.

"No, Molly, absolutely not." Sherlock shook his head and looked sternly into her eyes. "I am grateful and honored you confided in me…you didn't deserve what you experienced…"

Molly didn't know how to respond. Mixed emotions swirled throughout her head…for once someone was on her side of the matter…he had listened…and he knew the truth…

"I promise you…you'll never have to encounter him again…" Sherlock continued, choosing his words carefully. "You're safe now…"

He felt Molly's entire body relax, and her trembling ceased at his words. "Th-thank you…" she whispered, nuzzling comfortably into his arms.

Sherlock knew she was better, but something was still a little off…

Then it hit him.

She still hurt-she always had-and she felt alone in her world of constant pain…her dark sketches only confirmed it.

She needed to know she wasn't alone anymore…

"Molly…" he murmured soothingly.

"Y-yes?"

Sherlock slowly ran his arm along Molly's, wrapping it around hers to have his hand meet her own. He weaved his fingers in between hers and gently held them there in the air.

At first, Molly was confused.

But as they say, actions speak louder than words. She realized that their wrists, being pressed together, shared the same steady heartbeat.

They beat as one.

She wasn't alone anymore.

Molly had never felt as free and content as that moment.

Sherlock tenderly kissed her forehead, making her heart soar, and purred fondly, "Happy Saint Valentine's Day, my beloved…"

**Woo hoo! Valentine's!**

**Flufffffff flufff fluffff everywhheerree!**

**Hope you enjoyed this...did ya?**

**Alright everybody, NEXT HOLIDAY?! :D**

**NEXT CHARACTER TO INCORPERATE?!**

**I promise I'll crank it out much faster, I'm managing my time better to incorperate FanFiction!**

**Reviews=Love! (They also push me to update, so huzzah!)**


	6. The 2012 Olympics

***Stands up to podium***

**"I-" *sneeze* "'Scuse me...I am SO SORRY. BEFORE YOU ALL KILL ME PLEASE CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING!"  
**

**I got super sick this week.  
**

**Yay.  
**

**It was to the point where I missed an ENTIRE week of School and was stuck in bed forever feeling icky. I'm finally starting to get better, and now I have a ton of make up work. Huzzah.  
**

**Pwease forgive me.  
**

**I have figured out a system here for us. UPDATES are GUARANTEED EITHER EVERY FRIDAY OR MONDAY. I want you guys to choose.  
**

**Now this doesn't mean those are the only update days, those are just if I don't have enough time to update earlier, if that makes sense.  
**

**Alright, wow, I am so sorry again. To make up for it I put Lily in here for some fluff and made it super long.  
I also made Lily's meanie mom Carol come in for a confrontation with our favorite Detective...hee hee hee...sucks for you, Carol.  
**

**Some of you are probably thinkin' "Olympic's aren't a holiday!"  
**

**Well, Moos (guest) reccommended it and was totally right: the opening was a party in itself! And really, the Olympics are a huge celebration, and this is Sherlock's Holiday Celebrations, is it not? Come on, y'all love the Olympics!  
**

**I love everyone who gets into the Olympics, it's simply amazing-all of them. I will say though, Michael Phelps, the Fab Five, and Mo Farah are my heros. :) And no, not because the first two are Americans, but because I find their accomplishments fascinating. Its awesome.  
**

**Thank you SO much to Moos (guest) ME a guest, Fairyfriender, Arty Diane, neva-chanluvsmonsters101, Pergjithshme, Aviatress, phanpiggy and johnsarmylady for reviewing, you are all SUPER STARS! :D Also thanks to those favoriting and following!  
**

***Rainbow puts on Iron Man suit...but it's made for a lady*  
**

***Tony Stark walks in* "Woah woah woah, what are you doing with the suit? It's three in the morning."  
**

***Rainbow* "I'm IRON CHICK!"  
**

***Tony* "And what exactly do you expect to accomplish from that?"  
**

***Rainbow* "I AM GOING TO OWN SHERLOCK."  
**

***Tony* "..."  
**

**There you have it. The new adventures of Iron Man and...Iron Chick...Out to go own Sherlock...Ah, if only!  
**

**Sorry for talking for so long, ENJOY!  
**

**Sherlock Holiday Celebrations: Olympics  
**

**Sweet Dreams...My Treasured Little Olympian... = 36 letters +6 punctuation marks = 4,200 words  
**

"Checkmate…" The detective smirked, moving his black game pieces accordingly.

"God, why do I even try..." John sighed as he massaged his forehead. This was the fourth game in a row the doctor lost to his flatmate, who currently sat proudly across from him in the living space.

"Because it is a game of recreational purposes, John." Sherlock smiled, setting the board for another round.

"That's easy for you to say…I don't find it very 'recreational' to consistently lose to the point where I just expect myself to fail." John chuckled, scanning the board for ideas on a new tactic.

"Ah, but persistence is key, John." Sherlock replied, his frosty eyes sparkling. He had grown quite fond of their unspoken game night traditions. "Or as you've said, 'practice makes perfect', yes?"

"You must have practiced the Hell out of chess then," John smirked, going for one white game piece, but then hesitating and pulling back to rethink his move.

"Ah…Michael Phelps is participating again later this evening." Sherlock informed the doctor as he glanced at the television screen above them.

"The American swimmer?" John asked.

"The very same…tonight he has the chance to set the most medal count world record." The detective replied, watching the television intently.

"The man's a beast." John stated, glancing at the screen himself. They had been watching the Olympics all afternoon-enjoying the events as they continued their game.

"What makes you say that?" Sherlock asked.

"Have you SEEN what the man eats?" John chuckled, "It's ridiculous!"

"So he eats more than you?"

"Hey!"

"I'm merely joking." Sherlock chuckled at his flatmates reaction. Glancing at the flat screen again, he smiled. "Gymnasts are next."

"Good." John nodded, looking back to the chess game. Weaving his fingers together in front of his chin, he sighed. "I'm already confident I won't win this one…"

Sherlock chuckled. "You can't be sure until you've made your first move, now can you?" he asked, winking teasingly.

"You're horrible…" John smiled jokingly, shaking his head as he met the detective's gaze.

"So I'm told…" Sherlock grinned back.

Xxxxx

"Lily? Lily, come on- it's time to go."

"But Mom, Gabby Doug…um..Doug…Douglas! Gabby Douglas is gonna do the floor dance!" The little blonde replied excitedly, her attentive eyes drinking in the American Olympian on the screen as she prepared for her next event. "She's so graceful…" Lily whispered to herself on the couch.

"Lily, really, we need to go NOW." Carol told her sternly as she snatched her purse and keys from the counter. "Turn that off-let's go."

"But…Mommy, I've waited for this forever." Lily argued, subconsciously crossing her fingers as Gabby Douglas took a deep breath and walked onto the floor.

"LILY. NOW." Carol spat. Whatever little patience she had was thinning. "I'm sick of you watching this." She grabbed the remote from the couch and clicked the power button. Gabby Douglas went black before her first step was made.

"Mommy!" Lily protested as Carol roughly gripped her wrist and dragged her to the door. "Gabby was-"

"Really, Lily, you need to stop obsessing over such pointless games."

"But they're not games to Jordyn or McKayla or-"

"Lily, if you're going to obsess over some silly gymnast girls, at least vote for OURS, please." Carol scolded as she opened the mini-van door and shoved Lily inside.

Lily immediately felt ashamed. How could her mother think she didn't like their athletes? She was proud of _everyone_ who made it to the Olympics, so she was 'voting' for _everyone_…this particular year, the Fab Five had enchanted her from the rest. "I like ours too, Mommy, but the American girls are just so-"

"-I don't want to hear it Lily, it's not important…" Carol snapped as she started the van and checked the clock on the dashboard. "Oh my God, we're going to be late, dammit…" she cursed, turning out of the driveway and recklessly speeding through the neighborhood streets. "I told you we needed to leave, Lily, you should have listened to me-we're going to be late now."

Lily felt guilt swell in her throat. She didn't like being the cause of her mother's frustration… "I'm sorry Mommy…" she croaked, toying anxiously with her seatbelt.

"It's alright…" Carol sighed half-heartedly, focusing on the road as best she could with how tired she felt. "If we're late, we're late…but I don't want to ruin this for Anthony-he's worked very hard for this for a long time…It's rude to turn up late to something like that-it shows that you don't care."

"Is that why you were late to my gymnastics talent show last week?" Lily mumbled, feeling a bit sick.

"Lily-how _dare_ you say that!" Carol reprimanded, swerving to barely miss skimming the side of another car. "You know I had to get Jarrod's soccer team to practice that day!"

"But you didn't have to stay the whole time and watch them…I did a backflip, you know." Lily whispered, trying to bottle upcoming emotions.

"Lily-honey, I said I was sorry-and I wasn't going to stay and watch _everyone's _kid perform ballet tricks, anyway…"

"But Mommy-it's not ballet, it's gymnastics, and I did so well Ms. Lola gave me one of her medals!" Lily told her, biting her lip anxiously as they drove onto a busier street. "Do you wanna see it?" she asked, pulling the small hidden necklace from under her purple shirt. "I got to wear it during the show- and I did the hard ending trick, too…"

Carol had obviously zoned out the entire time her daughter was talking, concentrating on the events to come. "What was the address again?" she mumbled to herself, attempting to multi-task between texting the question to a friend and driving. "Goddammit…"

"Mommy…do you see what I got for a good job?" Lily tried again, leaning forward and carefully displaying her medal.

Carol grinded her teeth together as she gave up texting and dialed her friend's number. She cranked up the radio to where the van was trembling from the bass. "Lily-honey," she yelled over the music as she glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror,"-sit back so your seatbelt is on right, we've talked about this."

Lily reluctantly sat back, taking a deep breath to shout over the music, "It looks like an Olympic medal, isn't that special?!" she practically begged for her approval.

"LILY-_Please_-don't yell at me-I'm driving! Just be quiet honey, we'll be there-OH Cheryl, listen, I'm lost…" Carol was engulfed in her multi-tasking world, completely unaware of the blonde in the back seat.

"Aren't you…proud of me…?" Lily whispered, her eyes glossing over and her stomach twisting in an all-too familiar pain.

Eventually, the two were closing in on their destination. "Okay, I had it right…Lily-honey-what is that?"

Lily's blue eyes sparkled with new hope as she held up her medal proudly. "It's my award for my gymnastics show-lookie, it's like an Olympic medal!"

Carol puffed out her cheeks. "That's nice…" she said dryly, running her fingers through her golden hair. "Listen, Lily, you need to stop fixating yourself on gymnastics, alright? It's not like you're going into the Olympics themselves, honey."

"But…but Mommy…I…"

"It's alright, honey, you'll find a better, more productive hobby soon." Carol said convincingly.

Lily gripped her medal worriedly. "But why? I love my gymnastics class-"

"Honey, we can't do your gymnastics class anymore-I'm sorry." Carol bit her lower lip.

"What?! Why not!" Lily cried, feeling a piece of herself crumble away.

"Don't yell in the car." Her mother snapped before sighing again. "We can't make time for it with Anthony joining the football team-and Jarrod already being on the wrestling team-it's too much. But we can find something fun to do at home…maybe we can get you a ballet instruction DVD, it'll be the same thing." Carol nodded, as if to give herself closure rather than her daughter.

"B-but….Mommy…" Lily whimpered, missing her class and her instructor already.

"I'm sorry, honey…maybe in a few years." She nodded again, turning onto Baker Street.

Lily felt an entire wave of mixed emotions crash into her at the same time. "It's not FAIR!" she yelled angrily.

"LILY! You better behave better than this at the game-" Carol threatened.

"NO! I don't wanna GO to the game! I'll be miserable!"

Carol's frustration level was rising-fast. "Well your Uncle Greg's too busy to deal with a temperamental girl right now, so you're stuck with me." She barked.

Lily looked heatedly out the window. Her eyes widened in realization as they passed a certain door…

"Mommy-I can stay with Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John-I'll be good, I promise!" she cried desperately.

Her mother snickered. "I'm not sure I like their influence on you…Certainly not very 'normal' people…That Holmes character is suspicious…"

"Mommy PLEASE!"

"Lily, no yelling!"

"…please…" Lily whispered.

Carol looked at the clock and rolled her eyes. "Fine- but it's gonna be a late night game…I'll have to pick you up after midnight, you know."

"But I can sleep over!" Lily squeaked excitedly.

"Pshh! With no pajamas or-"

"I have backup pj's and clothes there!" Lily explained.

"Since when?" Carol asked in disbelief.

"Since Halloween!" Lily nodded. "Please Mommy!?"

Carol sighed in defeat as she parked the van. "You know what? Fine, but if I get even one complaint that you were naughty, you're not staying there and bugging them anymore-got it?"

"Yes." Lily nodded a bit nervously, hiding her medal under her shirt again in case of her mother's disapproval. "I'll be good-I promise."

"Good." Carol inhaled deeply as she got out of the van and looked stressfully to 221B. "Let's go."

Xxxxx

"Go…come on…go-go-go-go-_atta __girl_!" John cheered as McKayla Maroney completely stuck the vault landing on the TV. He had stood up out of sheer excitement and amazement. "Damn, Sherlock, come see this!" he called. The Fab Five had secretly stolen the two detective's hearts as well this year…

"What is it John? Something wrong?" The detective asked as he shuffled in from the kitchen. He wore safety goggles and held two test tubes of unidentifiable liquid in his hands from experimenting.

"They took points off her score, _that's_ what's wrong." John replied, shaking his head in pure disbelief. "They can't be serious!"

"What are you talking-"

"Look-look, they're replaying it." John pointed, finding himself just as amazed the second time.

"Good God." Sherlock mumbled under his breath as the gymnast hit the floor perfectly. "Do you see the judge? Her mouth practically unhinges! That's beyond impressive!" Sherlock shook his head, "Simply incredible…WHAT?!" he exclaimed as the awarded points were shown again.

"See!?" John said, just as surprised.

"You've got to be joking, they deducted points for something no one should be capable of seeing!" Sherlock threw his hands in the air dramatically, almost bumping into John and his coffee.

"Hey, watch where-" John began, chuckling.

"That's _ridiculous_!" Sherlock blurted to no one in particular. "I will gladly admit I'm no gymnastic professional, but I found nothing wrong with Ms. Maroney's vault-_flawless_!"

"Well it must be if Sherlock Holmes can't find any mistakes in it." John smiled, muting the television as it went to commercial. "That was great…"

"That was injustice." Sherlock snarled, "I don't care if they're from America, or Russia, or China, or HERE: award points accordingly! If they were from _**Antarctica**_, for goodness' _sakes_ give them what they deserve!"

John chuckled as he sipped his coffee. "I'd love to see you judge at the Olympics…"

"I don't believe I could ever fully comprehend the athletic perfection that would stand before me." Sherlock admitted, returning his attention to his experimental task on hand. "I would rather simply observe…"

"You'd completely freak out if Mo Farah ran past you in the stands…" John stated teasingly.

"I don't 'freak-out' John…" Sherlock corrected, lifting a test tube and swishing its contents as he sat back down at the table.

"You did when he won the ten-thousand meter, I'm a witness…"

"I was simply cheering patriotically as anyone would." The detective muttered, cocking his head in curiosity as his test tube's liquid faded from a light blue to a deep violet color.

"Right, because _anyone_ would "cheer patriotically" to the point where their coffee table accidentally flips over and their landlady is convinced her tenant has gone completely bonkers to be shouting and jumping all over the flat so much…"

"You saw nothing of the sort." Sherlock said sternly, never taking his eyes off his test subjects.

"Yes sir…" John smirked, strolling towards the window to enjoy the view London had to offer. He noticed a familiar little girl approaching 221B. "Speaking of excitement-" he began, stopping as he noticed the woman who accompanied her. "…-and injustice…we have visitors."

"A client?" Sherlock asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

"I would hope not…"

"Hmm?"

"Lily's here-"

Sherlock practically jumped from his seat at the table and was dashing down the stairs before John could finish.

"Sherlock-wait!" he called, following in an attempt to catch up. "Carol's here-" John stopped short as he noticed 221B's door was open to reveal the blondes, with Sherlock and Carol already glaring daggers at each other accusingly. "…too…"

"Hi Uncle John…" Lily whispered, looking anxious and a bit upset.

"Hey Lily," he whispered back, stepping forward towards Carol. "Ms. Lestrade?"

"Yes, you must be Dr. Watson…" she replied dryly, shaking his offered hand. "Mr. Holmes I presume?" she asked warily, turning towards the detective again.

"The pleasure's mine." Sherlock said just as emotionless as he scanned Carol from head to toe. "In a rush, Ms. Lestrade?"

"I _was_-let's just say someone wasn't behaving." She retorted, glancing down to a shameful looking Lily.

"I see…well, behavioral matters in children do tend to derive from parental issues." Sherlock glared. Carol looked appalled, to say the least.

John inhaled deeply. "He has no filter, please excuse him-"

"-Excused." She stated curtly, feeling uncomfortable in the detective's presence. No wonder her brother keeps him under wraps… "I actually came to ask of a favor…"

"Do tell." Sherlock said almost too cheerily. He found Carol's stone cold blue eyes and defensive stance to be quite amusing.

"Lily's decided she doesn't want to support and encourage her brothers on their special day," Carol glared at her daughter again, giving Sherlock an immediate urge of protectiveness. "-and she's requested to stay with you two…I understand its short notice, so if it doesn't work out-"

"It does." Sherlock answered without a hint of hesitation. "It works perfectly. Overnight, I presume?"

"Yes…" Carol replied warily. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not." John interjected before Sherlock could reply. "If you need to go, um-we can take it from here…"

Carol checked her watch and cursed under her breath. "Oh, God-alright…I'll be here at eleven tomorrow-thanks." She said in a jumble, already halfway out the door, "Dammit!" she said to herself as she dashed to the parked van, not once acknowledging her daughter.

Lily was in Sherlock's arms before John even shut the door.

"Uncle Sherlock!" she cried into his chest, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her tiny body. "I've missed you…"

"Oh, Lily I've missed you too…" Sherlock murmured lovingly into her soft golden hair.

"If it means anything, I've missed you too…" John chuckled as he followed the duo up the stairs.

"I've missed _you_ Uncle John…" Lily giggled over Sherlock's shoulder, her blue eyes glazed over with relief. "I always miss your home…" she added quietly.

"This is your home as well." Sherlock smiled, entering the flat and setting his little friend back on her feet.

"That makes me feel good…" Lily admitted, deeply inhaling the soothing scent of the flat she fell in love with. Without a second thought she skipped to the middle of the living space and flopped on her back onto the carpet. "I love it so much better here…" she giggled.

"Well you're always welcome here, Lily." John grinned, shutting the door behind him.

Sherlock snorted to John as he joined Lily on the floor, staring at the ceiling. "I don't believe we can say the same for her mother…"

"Sherlock!"

"It's okay Uncle John!" Lily said in a rush, "I don't want Mommy to come and take the magic away!"

Sherlock felt his stomach twist. "Lily-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I just meant…Uhhhgg!" She sighed, not knowing how to say what she needed to.

"It's alright, Lily-we understand." The detective told her, knowing just how Carol did seem to suck the 'magic' out of every room she entered.

"I…I didn't mean to…she's not a…a monster or anyth-thing…" Lily began again, feeling unbearably guilty as she sat up. " B-but…she didn't say…goodbye…and…but…I didn't m-mean…"

John knew what it was like to 'ride' this emotional rollercoaster all too well with his family experiences, and felt awful little Lily was undergoing it at such a young age. He walked over and scooped her shivering frame into his arms, holding her against him in a fatherly fashion. They took a seat on the sofa and Lily began crying into John's shoulder.

"Lily, hon…" he soothed, softly running his hands up and down her arms as she sat up on his lap, facing him. "It's alright…I know what you mean…"

"I'm s-so bad for s-saying that…" Lily said, obvious guilt etched in her dainty features.

"Lily, it's alright-really, it is…" John said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "I know you didn't mean it that way…but we know what you mean anyway."

"I…she's…" Lily began, wiping her eyes.

"We know Lily-we know just how your mom is…" John lulled, resting his forehead on hers, keeping eye contact as he gently wiped her tears from her cheeks, "...and I know just how you feel."

The little Lestrade felt as though the world was spinning the right way again. John seemed to know just how to do that sometimes… It was good to have a friend who listened and-even better-understood.

"I love you Uncle John…" she told him, honesty reflecting in her sapphire eyes.

"I love you too, Lily." John smiled, feeling a sense of pride and honor to have heard that from her mouth. "We both do." He looked to Sherlock, who appeared fascinated at the two's new connection.

"I love you too, Uncle Sherlock." Lily turned to him with a hopeful smile.

"And I love you, Lily." Sherlock was surprised the worlds rolled so easily off his tongue.

"And I unconditionally love all of you, despite the vandalism to my poor walls," A familiar voice chuckled from the doorway.

"Granny Martha!" Lily squeaked in pleasure at the sight of the detectives' landlady. She jumped off John's lap and ran to hug Mrs. Hudson's legs. "I love you too-I promise!"

"I certainly believe you, dearie," Mrs. Hudson smiled, weaving her fingers through Lily's golden locks affectionately.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in curiosity at their landlady as he stood back up. "Mrs. Hudson, your first name is-"

"-Martha?" John finished, just as interested-it occurred to him that they never knew Mrs. Hudson's first name…

"Oh, pish-posh now, it's nothing to get so worked up over boys." She chuckled, "I'm putting the kettle on-anyone interested in some tea?" John opened his mouth to reply, but Mrs. Hudson was already in the kitchen, tossing over her shoulder with a wink: "It was rhetorical, dearie…"

Xxxxx

"Damn…" John muttered as he watched the flat screen.

"John-language." Sherlock tsked jokingly, never taking his frosty eyes off sparkling Lily's as he moved a black chess piece. "Your move." He smiled.

"Sorry…" John rolled his eyes, "but I find Michael Phelps' medal count to be quite impressive…" He smirked to himself and turned in his chair to face the two on the couch. "And Mo Farah's about to make a speech on his win yesterday…"

"What?!" Sherlock's head snapped up as he eagerly looked towards the TV. "For the ten thousand meter?! Where?"

John could barely contain his laughter as Lily sneakily moved one of Sherlock's chess pieces, then hers.

"Checkmate." She peeped, trying not to giggle.

The detective turned to the board and instantly found the foul play. "I do believe there is trickery afoot," he smirked. "Have I found a cheater who moved a piece of mine?"

"Noooo," Lily giggled, "I moved _my_ piece!"

"I certainly don't recall moving-" Sherlock started.

"-well, maybe you forgot, because I didn't touch your Queen!"

"Ah, but I never said anything about my Queen, now did I?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Oh darn it!" Lily laughed, covering her mouth, "I didn't mean to say that!"

"So it IS true!" the detective cried, scooping her onto his lap and fluttering his fingers across her belly playfully, "Someone moved my Queen without my permission!"

"Okay-okay I did it!" Lily squeaked, unable to stop laughing. How did he know her ticklish spot? "I'm sorry! You win-you win!"

"I don't believe I heard that last part!" Sherlock said teasingly, still tickling her squirming figure.

"You-you… win-you win Uncle Sherlock!" Lily giggled. "You win!"

"Oh, _that's_ what you said!" Sherlock laughed, hugging Lily to him and falling backwards on the couch. "Well then, that's a different matter entirely!"

"You two are adorably bizarre," John smirked from his chair.

"Why, I believe someone is jealous…are you ticklish, John?" Sherlock asked mischievously.

"You can't be serious." John shook his head as the detective stood, grinning.

"There's nothing serious to it-are you?"

"I think he is." Lily giggled from the couch.

"Don't you touch me-" John said in a threatening tone.

"I think you're right…" Sherlock winked to Lily. "But there's only one way to confirm our theory…"

"Sherlock-don't-" John said, standing and backing away defensively.

"I've never seen you so jumpy before, John-"

"I swear if you-you-gah! Hahaha!" the doctor's words melted into giggles as Sherlock took no mercy on his flatmate, their laughter was contagious. A grin cracked across Lily's features at the sight… it was as if they were two playful children themselves. She found their unique friendship to be quite magical…

Then again, what wasn't magical on Baker Street?

Xxxxx

"They DID it! YAY!" Lily cheered, springing from the couch and bouncing up and down in triumph at the television. "They DID IT, you guys, they DID IT!"

"Yes they did, Lily." Sherlock chuckled from his side on the sofa. "And with much grace, I must say…"

"They did it?" John asked, walking in from the kitchen after cleaning the seemingly endless dishes from God-knows when…

"They got the GOLD Uncle John, the GOLD!"

"Ha, I told you!" John smirked at Sherlock, who merely rolled his eyes in response.

"Look! Wow, the medals are so shiny…" Lily stared in awe as the women were awarded their medals. She turned to the detectives. "I have one too, you know!"

"Do you now?" Sherlock smiled as John raised an eyebrow.

"Wanna see?" she whispered excitedly.

"Of course we do!" John grinned, settling in his chair and switching on a nearby dim lamp.

"Okay-" Lily giggled, carefully grasping the hidden lanyard from under her collar and lifting it, revealing her award. "Ta-da! Ms. Lola gave it to me-she's my gymnastics teacher…I mean, she was…"

"Wow, Lily-it's beautiful." John smiled, "What do you mean 'was'? Do you not like gymnastics anymore?"

"Oh no!" Lily's eyes widened. "I love gymnastics, I always have! And someday I'm going to be like Gabby and Aly and Kyla and McKayla and Jordyn!" she squeaked in an excited rush.

"Well then why did you stop?" John chuckled at her rambling.

"…Mommy says it's not…it isn't a pri…um…priority! It's not a priority anymore…compared to my brother's stuff…She doesn't think my gymnastics are important, I guess…" Lily shrugged, stroking her medal as she plopped next to Sherlock on the couch. "But Uncle Greg likes my gymnastics…he came to my show, you know…"

"I know he did." Sherlock smiled. Lestrade wasn't as bad as he thought with Lily…certaintly nothing compared to Carol. She disgusted him, to say the least.

"He says he knows I'll get far…" Lily yawned, feeling herself drifting off as she lay across the sofa.

"We all know you'll go very far, Lily…" John yawned back, feeling tired himself.

"Someday I'm gonna be in the Olympics…" she told them proudly, "And I'm gonna be on TV for you guys to…" The little Lestrade yawned for a second time, "…see me win gold for you…"

"We won't be able to see you on TV, Lily…" John smiled as Lily's expression turned to one of confusion. "We'll be in the front row stands watching you…" he promised.

"Okay…that sounds good." Lily softly smiled, her eyelids finally fluttering closed. "You can have…my flowers…" she mumbled, already dreaming of the fateful day.

"Lucky you, John." Sherlock grinned.

"Indeed." The doctor chuckled, falling asleep himself. "I'm staying out here, since someone has claimed the couch for the night…you?"

"Why on earth would I leave?"

"Just making sure." John chuckled, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment.

Sherlock gently laid himself behind slumbering Lily, wrapping his arms around her to pull her petite frame to his. He felt her rhythmic heartbeat against his own, something he found incredibly soothing…

Lightly stroking her tiny hand in his, Sherlock blissfully sighed into her soft tresses "Sweet dreams…my treasured little Olympian…"

**Ta daaaa! Lily the Olympian!**

**So cute...  
**

**I will say, my favorite element to this was Sherlock's unnatural obsession with Mo Farah. Come on, the dude's amazing!  
**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter- now I have two...wait, THREE important questions:**

**First: Guaranteed updates MONDAYS or FRIDAYS?**

**And Mother's Day or Father's Day next?  
**

**What characters would you like to make an appearance? Perhaps someone who hasn't come in yet?  
**

**I love you guys. :) Just thought I'd remind ya.  
**

**Reviews = LOVE!  
**


	7. Mother's Day

**I owe you all such big apology hugs.  
**

**I got sick and missed so much more school, it took forever to catch up and get on track and I'm so sorry!  
**

**I promise this won't happen again, and updates now on Monday's AND Fridays!  
**

**Thank you SO much to all who have stuck with me and reviewed, you all rock!  
**

**I put Mummy Holmes in here to make up for this-I hope you enjoy!  
**

**Friend: "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?"  
**

**Me: "I want Morgan Freeman's voice."  
**

**Friend: "...really?'  
**

**Me: "Of COURSE not, I want the superpower to own Sherlock!"  
**

**I don't have superpowers, thus, I do not own Sherlock. Bleh.  
**

**Sherlock Holiday Celebrations: Mother's Day  
**

**...Happy Mother's Day...Mummy...=21 Letters + 9 punctuation marks=30 characters=3,000 words  
**

_John was running. _

_From what, he had no idea-but John ran all the same. Alone, in an endless labyrinth of dark ominous hallways–the only sounds being his footsteps echoing off the walls and…growling?_

_Looking back, he saw what he was attempting to escape: hounds. __**The**__ Hound of Baskerville, plus two others, and they were certainly real this time. Their lips curled back to reveal pearl-white teeth, with foam bubbling from the sides of their mouths. The doctor felt his heart skip a beat as the animals advanced, their claws grazing loudly against the dark marble floors. The canines growled in hunger as John cursed under his breath. His lungs burned as they screamed for air, and his legs were throbbing by the time he rounded another corner-and suddenly John just couldn't run anymore._

_Collapsing to the ground, the doctor felt himself shudder in fear. "Shit!" John wheezed, feeling his body ache with incredible unfamiliar pain as he attempted to stand back up. His body betrayed him and his limbs went completely numb as the hounds ravenously lunged forward._

_It instantly occurred to John this moment was likely to be his last…he would never have the chance to say goodbye to those who mattered to him. "Sherlock!" John yelled, the tall detective being the only one flashing through his mind during his final moment as he shakily covered his head-feeling the hound's heated breath against his neck. Why he begged his friend's name hopelessly in the darkness, John couldn't say…all he knew was he was doomed as he felt the unmistakable sharp sting of the hound's claws and fangs piercing into his exposed flesh. "SHERLOCK!"_

Xxxxx

"Sh-Sherlock…" The detective grimaced as John pitifully whimpered out his name again in his slumber. He had hoped John would just fall back into a peaceful sleep once his nightmare reached its highpoint…

"Sherlock!"

Nope. Perhaps a few more minutes…

"SHERLOCK!"

That was it, he couldn't stand it anymore. Seeing his friend in this state simply made Sherlock sick-it chilled him to the core.

"JOHN!" he yelled frantically, shaking the doctor's shoulders and practically slapping him out of his sleep. He knew it was really the only way to wake him up from these dreams…

"GOD, What the HELL?!" John sputtered, finally coming to consciousness. His first sight was none other than his flatmate kneeling beside the sofa he had fallen asleep on earlier that evening. Trembling, John sat up and rubbed his eyes stressfully. "Oh God…Ohhh my God…." He shakily exhaled.

"John-" Sherlock reached for a glass of water and carefully placed it in the doctors quivering hands. "It's alright, John-I'm here…" he stated, his frosty eyes reflecting worry.

John blinked as he gazed into the clear liquid-the visions of the attacking hounds still vividly fresh in his mind. "I….wow…I-I'm sorry, I ju-just-" the doctor stuttered, feeling sick to his stomach. "It was…God, it was horrible…"

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in concern and took back the cup-it was obvious John was too shaken up to drink anything at the moment. "John, it's alright if you do not wish to verbalize it again..." He nodded, "…was it the hound?" he asked delicately.

"I…more than…one…three of them…" John sighed in frustration, massaging his forehead.

The detective nodded again, this time curtly. These reoccurring nightmares of John's had been going on for a good week now-and each time they only seemed to get worse. It had gotten to the point where John was practically afraid of sleeping-something Sherlock had never seen in John's character before. The doctor was incredibly frustrated with the fact the Hound of Baskerville was haunting him months after their solution with the case. His lack of sleep weakened him to the point of passing out from time to time-only to confront the hounds again. Sherlock was becoming frustrated himself-he had attempted practically everything he could find on nightmare remedies for his flatmate, but all had utterly failed. Not even sleeping during the daytime seemed to affect anything… Sherlock felt guilt and anger flush over him every time John experienced a nightmare-he absolutely _hated_ to see John practically wither away in front of him. This needed to stop as soon as possible; no matter what it took-he would do it.

"God, I'm sorry-I didn't mean to wake you up-"John began, groaning at the feeling of an upcoming headache. No sleep only meant more body pains…

"-Don't apologize, John, you do not choose to experience these visions." Sherlock ordered, looking up at him seriously. "What do you require at the moment?"

John sighed, feeling as though he were being a major inconvenience to the detective. "I just…I think I n-need some… fresh air…" he mumbled as he stood, still slightly quivering. The flat suddenly felt exceedingly warm. A walk would do him some good… "I'll…I'll be back, thanks for wake-waking me up…"

Sherlock couldn't help but cringe at his words. He should have known the nightmare wouldn't cease if John 'slept it off', he should have woken him sooner. "John-" he began, but trailed off as the flat door shut behind the doctor. Sherlock sighed in defeat.

He let himself sink into his mind palace while the flat was empty, and surrounded himself with solutions to this growing problem…no, no…no…he had tried that…As much as he hated to admit it, Sherlock had a past with reoccurring nightmares…how had he cured himself? The detective scanned his surroundings in thought-his gaze landing on the calendar seeming to scream out today's date to him. Hm. Then again, it wasn't himself who treated the nightmares accordingly, it was his…

Aha.

"Brilliant." Sherlock whispered to himself, taking note of the labeled holiday under the date. Today could not have possibly come at a better time.

Snatching his phone from his pocket, Sherlock began dialing one of the most important numbers he knew inside and out by heart. He uncharacteristically held his breath in anticipation.

"Good evening, love." a voice answered with a warm chuckle on the first ring- she obviously knew the number calling her just as well.

Sherlock grinned at the soothing sound of the one he dearly adored. "Hello Mummy…"

Xxxxx

"Seven-no, eight…wait-it was…so…nine. Nine months…God, John, you're pathetic…" The doctor massaged his neck stressfully as he walked briskly in the crisp-cold London air. The quiet darkness of the night was calming, yet eerie…

John still couldn't get the faces of the hounds out of his mind-they were there every time he closed his eyes…even when he blinked, the red eyes and shining teeth threatened to attack. "Pitiful…" the doctor sighed again, cursing himself under his breath. Nine months was exceedingly excessive to be having nightmares over something that far in the past…wasn't it?

Now that he thought about it, his army 'dreams' never went away…they just didn't occur as often.

John felt his head throb painfully. He attempted to push the thoughts out of his mind for the moment-this walk was _supposed_ to be helping things…

Right.

Inhaling deeply, John looked up to the black sky…it was dark enough to see the stars tonight. He chuckled in spite of himself as he recalled Sherlock's last rant on how 'unimportant' it was to know 'every bloody thing' about the universe…

John sighed again at the thought. He shouldn't be out here walking. He should be back home, with those that mattered. At least he forgot all his pathetic weaknesses when he was distracted by his flatmate…

Besides-he could have sworn it was getting darker and darker by the minute. Choosing the fastest way back to Baker Street, John turned into a darkened alleyway passage. Normally, he would be too paranoid to take ways like this in the dark-but he was extremely uncomfortable at the moment and needed to get back home-fast.

John closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to sooth his aching head, but his eyes flashed right back open at a sudden low rumbling noise…

Freezing in position to listen, John heard it again…his heart stopped at the realization it was some sort of animal snarling. "Don't even, John-what are the chances…" the doctor trailed off, slowly turning to inspect just what he was dealing with... "Shit…"

It was indeed an animal-a canine, for sure. A very burly one at that-it's large eyes reflected a white from the moonlight in the dark alleyway as it trotted forward-letting out another menacing growl. All John could make out was its sheer size in the dim lighting-the outline gave the impression of an incredibly muscular frame and its pointed ears attentively turned in his direction. For a moment, all John could do was stand there in disbelief. This couldn't be happening…what were the odds…

The doctor jumped when the hound let out a sharp bark and trotted forward again, this time breaking into a sprint.

Finally, John was able to react-he ran. John ran faster than he had run in his dreams- this was all-too real to take any chances. Hearing the patting of paws behind him, John glanced back as he dodged a protruding fire escape ladder and took an unexpected turn, hoping to throw the hound off. "Aw, Shit!" he cursed, watching in horror as the hound advanced-faster than John had ever seen an animal run. For some strange reason, he felt he couldn't take his eyes off the canine-he felt it would be his death if he tore his gaze away.

A split-second later, John realized it would be his death if he didn't watch where he was going.

Collapsing to the unforgiving ground, John grimaced as he roughly collided with brick wall. Panicking, he sat up and searched the solid barrier for an escape. There weren't many ways to get out of a dead end…

Another bark, and John felt his heart practically stop.

"Oh God," he mumbled to himself, wishing he had just chosen to stay home. Before he even had the chance to get back up, the hound pounced.

The large canine rammed into John forcefully and sent them both tumbling back onto the ground. John cringed and prepared for the worst as he closed his eyes for what he thought would be the last time. Images of his entire life began flashing before him-ending with cheerful memories of none other than Sherlock Holmes…

To his utter surprise, John felt no claws tearing into his coat, or teeth gnawing into his skin-but a warm rough tongue lapping at the hands covering his face. Holding his breath, John slowly opened his eyes to find the 'deadly' hound simply hovering above him. His eyes adjusting to a sudden light from the end of the alley, John felt his defenses melt as he realized the hound was really a dog-just a bulky German Shepard... "The Hell…" John muttered as the dog wagged his tail excitedly and whimpered as he turned toward the light source.

"Leo-you get back here RIGHT now mister!" an oddly familiar honeyed voice scolded, "You weren't supposed to jump on him, you big oaf! I apologize; Dr. Watson- Leo appears to have difficulty NOT assaulting every person he meets…"

John blinked against the flashlight and warily took the offered hand to stand up. "I'm…I'm sorry, what's going on?" he shook his head, feeling his heat continue to thud in his chest with adrenaline.

"I suppose it would be appropriate to remove the light beam from you face," the woman chuckled, lowering her flashlight. "Forgive me, Dr. Watson-I tend to become a bit 'hyper', if you will, late at night…The dark excites me."

John blinked again to adjust to the light and realized why this person was calling him Dr. Watson. He smiled at the shining chestnut curls and frosty eyes he recognized immediately. He felt his body relax at the sight. Her reassuring smile-similar to Mycroft's-seemed to brighten the dark alleyway. "Violet-I- please, call me John-" he started, not sure where to begin. He knew he would see the infamous "Mummy Holmes" again, just not in such a situation as this…

"Oh, yes, that's right, John-of course! This is Leo…" Ms. Holmes introduced, scratching the German Shepard behind his ears. "Again, I'm terribly sorry, he wasn't supposed to pounce on you…"

"It's fine, I-" John blinked in surprise. "-I'm sorry, wasn't _supposed_ to?"

Mrs. Holmes eyes seemed to sparkle in the dark. "Perhaps this would be much easier to discuss as we walk home…Leo-get OUT of that trash can this instant!"

Xxxxx

Sherlock paced the sidewalk heatedly in the chilled air as countless deductions on the situation swirled in his mind. He turned to Mycroft, who was leaning against his parked car, and opened his mouth to ask a question.

"Before you inquire for the fifth time in the past two minutes," Mycroft interrupted, "-it is twelve thirty nine, brother."

Sherlock merely snorted in response and continued pacing.

"Quite a lovely night, is it not?" Mycroft asked, lifting his gaze to the star-filled sky.

Sherlock swiveled on his heels to face his brother, his eyes reflecting eagerness. "Time?" he asked once again. Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes.

"It's past your bedtime, that's what time it is." A familiar voice playfully scolded.

"MUMMY!" Sherlock chirped, dashing to engulf Mother Holmes in warm hug before Mycroft even stood straight up.

"Oh, love, Mummy's missed you…" She smiled, hugging him back lovingly.

"Sherlock's missed you too…" the detective sighed contentedly into her thick curls.

Mycroft smiled happily and turned to John, who beamed at the two hugging. "Good morning, John..."

"Is it really?" John asked, not believing the time as he subconsciously yawned.

"Ask Sherlock if you do not believe me." Mycroft smirked, then softly whistled, "Leo," The canine responded accordingly and trotted over to sit patiently in front of the car. "Hello, old fellow…" Mycroft beamed, lightly massaging the dog behind his ears. He glanced at his mother's facial expression and then whispered to him with a grin, "I do believe you've been a bit naughty this morning…"

"Thirteen years and seven months-he still cannot grasp the concept of even the _simplest_ instructions…" Mrs. Holmes rolled her eyes, smoothing out Sherlock's coat as she had done since he had first worn one…

"Thirteen?" John asked with raised eyebrows, only now noticing the gray hairs speckling the dog's body.

"He's our old boy-the secret is just how spoiled he is." Mummy Holmes replied with a wink, shivering in her light long-sleeved cream shirt. "Goodness, the temperature has declined immensely- I'm afraid we must go nonetheless."

"But Mummy-" Sherlock began protesting as his mother opened the car door and let Leo hop in.

"No worries, darling-" she soothed, closing the door and giving her youngest son one last hug. "I'll be back for a 'check-in' soon. It won't take as long as this time."

Sherlock pouted as his mother pulled away and met his gaze. "Promise?" he asked.

"Promise, love." Mummy Holmes chuckled, kissing his forehead before striding to John. "As for you-I am so proud."

"Proud-?" John began, not able to contain a laugh as mother Holmes engulfed him in a hug and squeezed in a motherly fashion. "Of _me_? What did I-"

"-Of course you!" she interrupted, pulling back and cupping Johns cheeks in her hands as though he were a young boy. "You faced your fears and freed yourself from those dreadful hauntings of the night-very well, I may add. I remember someone else special having similar nightmares…" she looked mischievously to the detective.

"Mummy!" Sherlock hissed in obvious embarrassment as Mycroft smirked.

"What? They were dreadful-waking up to the sound of you screaming over the giant wolves coming to eat you and-" she stopped as Mycroft stifled a laugh. "Don't get me started on you, mister." Mycroft immediately stopped snickering. "Oh, goodness, remember the year you two came running into my room Easter night crying that the Easter Bunny was a rabid beast out to suck the blood of unlucky children-"

"MUMMY!" Both brothers begged as John grinned.

"Alright, alright-but I will take note to continue next time." She winked, turning back to John. "You have a wonderful night dear-I love you."

Before John even knew what he was saying, the words spilled out of his mouth. "I love you too." John froze.

Sherlock and Mycroft raised their eyebrows in surprise, looking to their mother for her reaction.

She simply smiled and nuzzled her nose against John's. "That's my boy-"

"Mummy-" Sherlock began, still surprised.

She raised a finger before he could continue. "-if he is a brother to you, he is my son. And your brother certainly deserves the love he was neglected of as a child." She explained, her tone telling them it was official as of that moment.

John's eyes widened. "H-how did you know-"

"-A story for another day, love." She simply winked, planting a quick kiss on the doctor's cheek before dashing to the driver's side of the car. "I don't know how you all can stand it out here-it's so chilly!"

"I warned you to wear a coat, Mummy." Mycroft smirked as he opened the door for her.

"You know I hate excess clothes, dear-now get in." she snapped, still smiling anyway. "Goodnight, loves." She giggled to the detectives.

"Goodnight Mummy." Sherlock smiled.

"Be sure to tell Mrs. Hudson I send her my regards, John." she winked before closing the door.

"I do believe you meant morning, brother." Mycroft smirked, getting into the car as Sherlock merely rolled his eyes.

Both detectives waved as the car quietly drove off into the night.

"Quite convenient of her to be near today…" Sherlock muttered to himself.

"I love your mother." John shook his head, smiling at the now empty street.

"She's yours as well, as I recall." Sherlock smirked before walking up and opening 221B's door. "I do believe I left the chloride in the microwave…" he muttered, disappearing up the staircase.

John shook his head to himself when he realized what today was. Looking off in the direction the duo disappeared to, he smiled. "…Happy Mother's Day…Mummy…"

**Ahhhhh! I can't see through all the fluffff!**

**I love Mummy Holmes. If you guys are with me, I'd like to bring her back sometime. :D  
**

**NOW!  
**

**Father's Day is next: anyone up for some Lily action? (Any new characters to integrate?)  
**

**Reviews=Love  
**

**I'll be updating very very very very very very *ten minutes later* very very very very *gasssppp* very soon!  
**


	8. Seasonal Sherlock: Carriage Ride

***Rainbow is running...***

***Faster and faster, away from an educational faciility...*  
**

**"WINTER BREAKKKK! HUZZAH!"  
**

**Oh my goodness you guys.  
**

**I have some things to explain; but trust me, this will all be worth it, I have a surprise for you all as an apology and as a holiday present!  
**

**So yes-winter break is here! Two weeks of time to WRITE FREELY! *claps vigorously*  
**

**AND-the reason I haven't been writing and posting is because I honestly haven't had time to do anything else but school. Literally. I would go home, do my homework all night, and go to bed.  
**

**BUT NO MAS  
**

**The stress was getting to where it affected my health so often, so now that it's semester, I've dropped my AP class and moved into a much much simpler one that will be going through what I already know.  
**

**Basically this means = FanFiction  
**

**And I'm not kidding.  
The HOURS I'd spend a night outlining a chapter and analyzing original documents is now devoted to WRITING FANFICTION.  
**

**HUZZAHHHHHH!  
**

**This also means updates will indeed be back to Fridays and/or Mondays!  
**

**I've missed you all so much, and I've felt so heartwarmed by all your reviews-I have a surprise for you.  
**

**Personally, I love this time of year because most people are nicer than ever, and it's an excuse to give everyone gifts! (And to eat cookies until you practically explode! :D )  
**

**I have some gifts for you!  
**

**Yes, that was plural!  
**

**12 Seasonal Sherlock Stories.  
**

**Yes, that is 12. T. W.E.L.V.E. :D  
**

**And they're connected-for the first time during this holiday collection!  
**

**And they are holiday related words too-like Carriage ride, Snow, etc.  
**

**Huzzah! Thanks to all who reviewed, it means so much to me-and I will be sure to mention you in the next chapter! :D  
**

**I hope you all enjoy; I'm very excited to finally be back on schedule with you all-but of course updates during the next two weeks will be quite frequent...FREEDOM! AND THE HOBBIT IS OUT. YAY!  
**

***Writes on fancy notebook paper*  
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**"Dear Santa,  
**

**Can I have Sherlock for Christmas please? Thanks  
**

**~Rainbow"  
**

**Nope. Darn it. :)  
**

**Before I send you to the story, I'd like to give a reminder to keep all the Families of Sandy Hook Elementary school, and all the families in China of the primary school in your prayers, or thoughts, or wherever you keep your loving heart-felt feelings. :)  
**

**Alright...enjoy. :)  
**

**Sherlock Holiday Celebrations: "Carriage Ride"**

**"Carriage Ride" = 12 letters +02 punctuation marks =1400 words  
**

"Ah-" Sherlock quietly hissed in hidden pain.

"Stay still…"

"I _am_."

"Then it shouldn't hurt."

"It doesn't."

"Right." John rolled his eyes, reaching across the counter for another fabric bandage. "And that's why you took the chance in the first place: no risk for injury there, hm?" he said sarcastically, wincing as he noticed the blood seeping through the third coating of bandages on his flatmate's arm. "Jesus-are you sure you're not hemophilic?"

"John," Sherlock sighed in slight annoyance, "We've discussed this numerous times-"

"-and this is now the fourth bandage layer I've applied to you in the last five minutes!" John snapped, a bit worried as he taped the last bandage on. "This is NOT natural for a normal human being."

"And I am not the 'normal human being', now am I?" Sherlock smirked, sliding off the kitchen table and speedily making his way to the living space, much to the concerned John's displeasure. Flicking the television on with the remote, a smile of satisfaction cracked across the detectives face. "Impressive containment unit he is currently being held in, isn't it?"

John took a glance at the news on the screen and shook his head. "The stronger the better…that bastard may as well be in cement block, for all I care."

"I'm sure Lestrade would be in complete agreement with you." Sherlock chuckled, the events of earlier that day still fresh in his mind. Serial killers with a habit of stabbing are nothing to joke about, but the look on Lestrade's face when he found out the fugitive managed to jam a knife in Sherlock's upper-arm was priceless: Sherlock almost asked for him to be merciful on the criminal.

Almost.

"Oh _God_," John sighed a few moments later.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're damn arm…" he motioned. Sure enough, more red liquid was seeping from the wound.

"Oh…"

"…are you _sure _you're -?"

"John, just please get the bandages," Sherlock rolled his eyes, smiling anyway as his friend mumbled under his breath on the way to the kitchen.

Xxxxx

"And then I showed them all with the model- the protons, neutrons, and electrons..." Lily counted on her fingers proudly, smiling at the old stone before her. "Ms. Morris said it was perfect, but I dunno if my class got it-they don't know what atoms are even for…"

The icy winter winds picked up again, wafting the softly falling snowflakes harshly against Lily's exposed face. Rubbing her black gloves together for warmth, she shivered scooted closer to the intricately carved gravestone. She sighed as the winds died down, and all was calm and peaceful once more.

"I love the snow." She stated, as though she were talking to someone right in front of her. "Mommy said she wished it didn't exist…it's hard on her comm…com_mute_-commute to work."

Only the sound of the trees slightly rustling responded, but the little one didn't seem to care.

"Uncle Greg told me he loved the snow...so does Uncle John-and Uncle Sherlock taught me how it comes from the sky, and how it's made…" she explained, her bright blue eyes shimmering in the light reflecting off the pure white snow. "Oh…I forgot to tell you Daddy-I have two more uncles now! I think you would like them, they're so smart and nice. And yuh…unie…unique-like you!" she squeaked proudly, stroking her dark violet scarf. "Uncle Sherlock got me this-he has one too, but it's blue…I got it for doing such a nice job at my gymnastics show-Uncle Greg said he would pay for my classes as long as I worked hard and had fun-and Uncle John even said he thought he was at the Olympics when he watched me! It felt really good to make them happy...I wish you had seen me…"

For a quiet moment, Lily simply stared into the silent stone engraved with the name of a person she wished she had gotten to know better. The snow continued to fall, giving the appearance of little crystals as they speckled her golden hair. "Daddy…?" she began, staring intently at his name, as though if she looked hard enough, she could see him again. "…Mommy misses you…even though she never talks about it…we all miss you."

Lily slowly stroked her thumb over the "L" on the stone to wipe the snowflakes away; her eyes glimmering with tears that just wouldn't fall. "…_**I**_ miss you."

"I wish I had a Daddy to miss."

"…Hi…" Lily greeted, looking at the stranger above a bit suspiciously.

"Hey there," he greeted back, smiling a bit too cheerfully. "I'm Jim, what's your name?"

"I shouldn't be talking to you." Lily said bluntly, blinking in confusion. "…And you interrupted my conversation."

"Oh dear, that was rude of me, wasn't it?" the man apologized, kneeling down to Lily's level. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention at all…I just miss my dad too-he's buried right over there."

Feeling a pang of sympathy, Lily cocked her head to the side. "That's okay…I'm Lily." She introduced, politely holding out her hand for a handshake as Uncle John had taught her.

Jim took it gently and shook with a bit over-done smile. "Nice to meet you, Lily…I couldn't help but overhear you know a bit about Sherlock…"

That very sentence set off countless alarms in Lily's head. She knew for a fact Sherlock worked on very dangerous secretive things -so how did this man know him?

"Who?" she asked innocently, knowing just what Sherlock would want her to do at this situation.

"Sherlock. Holmes." Jim hissed with a smile, his patience already thinning. "I'm one of his good friends, I just want to know what he's up to, is all…didn't he go into hiding a few weeks ago?"

Now the alarms were blaring.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking 'bout…but we can talk some other time, I gotta go home and-" Lily started, standing and brushing the snow off her knees.

"Oh please do stay-" Jim interrupted, snatching her arm a bit roughly. "-we still have so much more to talk about."

"Let me go." Lily snapped, "Mommy's gonna be worried I'm not home, and she'll be mad at me." Pulling away with strength Jim didn't know such a young girl could possess, Lily tightened her scarf and began backing away- a bit wary of Jim stalking closer.

"Oh, your mother's mad at you already…" he chuckled grimly, his shadow covering Lily's small figure. "And she's about to be very angry at me too…"

Xxxxx

"Sherlock, where's my laptop?" John asked tiredly.

"The kitchen counter." Sherlock replied immediately, currently occupied cleaning his violin.

"God, just put it back where you found it-" the doctor scolded, his eyes finally landing on his computer.

"What are you implying?" Sherlock asked teasingly, finding amusement in the sigh he evicted from his agitated flatmate.

"Forget it." John rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket as his phone vibrated. "Hello?...No!"

"John?" Sherlock asked, watching John's eyes widen.

"Shit-how could she just let her wander off-?!"

"John, what's going on?!" Sherlock asked worriedly, immediately standing.

"No, don't even, we'll be there in five." The doctor snapped, hanging up and dashing for his jacket.

"John, who-"

"Lestrade…he said…" John sighed stressfully as he tossed Sherlock his own coat. He inhaled deeply and looked painfully into Sherlock's icy eyes. "Lily's gone."

Sherlock blinked rapidly, and opened his mouth to reply, but was abruptly cut off by the vibrating of his own phone.

His heart skipped a beat at the text message…the number it was sent from belonged to someone who should have been locked away… someone who's haunted their lives for far too long… and he was about to make a horrific impact on another one.

"Sherlock…?" John asked, stepping over to take a look at the message. "...shit." he breathed in disbelief. It didn't get worse than this. "He's in prison, how is he-"

"He's not in prison." Sherlock breathed, feeling his stomach churn in disgust. "He's hasn't been for a very long time…" He lifted his gaze to meet John's. Determined not to waste a single second, both detectives began making their way for the door.

Sherlock couldn't keep himself from reading the message on his phone over and over and over again…and each time the words were like knives that pierced his heart.

_No need to worry, my friend, she's with me!_

_Let's just say I'm taking her on a little "Carriage Ride"_

__**Duh duh dummmmmmm!  
**

**Stuff just got real...**

**I hope y'all know who our bad guy is...can't have a holiday without 'a good old fashioned bad- guy', now can you? :)  
**

**What holiday themed words do you all have in mind?  
**

**Reviews=LOVE! Love me this holiday season?  
**

**...pwease?  
**


	9. Seasonal Sherlock: Christmas Snow

**Oh my goodness, happy new year!**

**We survived da apocalypse! (I'm kidding, but seriously-I'm sick of people practically screaming "YOLO THE WORLD IS ENDING ANYWAY!" and doing crazy stuff...you should do the crazy stuff without such an excuse!) **

**I know it not Monday nor Friday, but I spent extra time on this to squeeze in some fluff and such for your enjoyment-making it longer!**

**I am estimating the next update to be on Saturday, if not before!  
**

**What an amazing year it has been with all of you-I've cherished every second of it! Thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart-you all are so awesome!  
**

**Special thanks to ArtyDiane, Aviatress, theAwesomeReader,Moos (guest-you're awesome!) and Alexandria Keating for reviewing, you guys really encourage me to put so much quality into all these!  
**

**Thanks to all those favoriting, following, and of course, reading!  
**

**Hope your New Years was wonderful!  
**

*** Scene in an NCIS Episode *  
**

**Rainbow: "He in the interrogation room?"  
**

**Tony DiNozzo: "Yep-go get'em tiger."  
**

**Rainbow rolls eyes.  
**

*** walks into interrogation room with Gibbs *  
**

**Suspect "I ain't got nothin to tell."  
**

**Rainbow: "Oh, DON'T START THAT WITH ME."  
**

**Gibbs "We know you've got your people stationed in every coastal naval port-where's this man." *shows picture*  
**

**Suspect. "I dunno what yer talkin' bout...all I got is some friends in the weapons business and Sherlock. THats all."  
**

**Rainbow. "WHAT?! YOU OWN SHERLOCK?" slams hands on table "GIVE ME SHERLOCK NOW OR I HAVE YOU ARRESTED ON THE DEATH PENALTY!"**

**Gibbs "Rainbow!"  
**

**Rainbow "NOWWWW!"  
**

**Well, he didn't give it to me, so here we are. I'm done talking, enjoy!  
**

**Sherlock Holiday Celebrations  
**

**12 Days of Sherlock Christmas  
**

**Buried in the Christmas Snowfall = 28 letters =2,800 words  
**

"Don't. Touch. Me…" Lily spat, knowing Jim's intentions were anything but the 'friendly' gestures he was attempting to portray. "I see the broken handcuffs in your pocket…my Uncle Greg is the boss of the police, you know-he won't be happy you're not where you're supposed to be…" she informed him, warily glancing around, fearful at the fact no other person was to be seen in the surrounding large and elaborate graveyard.

"Oh, your uncle and I have already met, darling…" Jim chuckled darkly. "…let's just say he and I don't get along too well."

"That's because Uncle Greg isn't friends with criminals." Lily glared, her blue eyes looking more menacing than Jim thought possible as she quickened her pace and clutched at her scarf. The icy winds snapped at her exposed skin as it rustled through the lonely trees of the nearby wooded area.

Lily felt shivers go up and down her small spine as Jim grinned wickedly and shoved his right hand into his pocket, and began texting some short message on his phone with his left as he casually advanced towards her. "Now-now, then, what makes you think _I'm_ the bad guy?" his sickeningly sweet tone and thickly sugar coated words suddenly made the little Lestrade feel incredibly nauseated. "It's our friend Sherlock who's the callous criminal-he stole a lot from me, you know…"

"Whatever Uncle Sherlock did, he did it to put you back in your place." Lily spat, a feeling of hatred building up inside her as she put the countless pieces together in her head-her mind raced frantically as the pieces began forming a formidable picture. She looked to the large skating rink across the street-feeling her stomach drop when she could no longer see her mother in the window.

"Oooooo, so he's _Uncle_ Sherlock, is he?"

"Eep!" Lily squeaked at her possibly fatal mistake, her gloved hands flying to her mouth at the second she finally recognized just who this man was. "YOU! You're …you're M-Moriarty…You tried to _kill_ Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John!"

"Ah, so you know Sherlock _veeerryyy_ well, don't you?" Moriarty grinned, "And Johnny boy toboot! You may be even more helpful than I previously hoped." He mumbled, grinning wider as his phone vibrated and he glanced over the message.

_Laying a finger on her is to desire for death_

_SH_

"Uncle Sherlock was right…you're evil…"

"Evil? Oh no…you haven't seen Mr. Evil just yet…" Moriarty slid his phone back in his pocket and advanced closer, looking as eager to get his hands on her as ever, so Lily took the chance to turn and make a run for it-realizing it was now or never to escape. She glanced at the building-her mother wasn't there…she glanced at the woods-her only hope. "But I'm positive he'll be out to play in no time…"

Lily squeezed her eyes shut tightly as he laughed almost joyfully from behind her, his footsteps coming closer with every second-if she could just make it into the woods, she had a chance-Uncle Johns voice in her mind told her so.

"_But how did you do it?! How did you get away without the guards catching you?!"_

_John smiled at the sparkle in her eyes; knowing she already thought he was simply magical-it was as if every real-life story he told her was a huge adventure from a fantasy book. _

"_Did you make an invisibility con...concah…concoction to sneak by?!" she asked with and excited tone, clapping her hands enthusiastically as she looked at him with eager eyes. "I know they do science stuff in the army-Uncle Sherlock told me about…Bas…Basker…um…place?"_

"_Baskerville!" Sherlock's warm chuckle assisted from the kitchen. _

"_Yeah-Baskerville! So did you do it?! Did you turn invisible?!"_

"_Lily," John laughed, pulling her closer to keep her from falling off his lap from her theatrical movements. "-I didn't become invisible!"_

"_Then what did you do?! How did you do it?! How did you escape them without being invisi-"_

"_-I trusted nature to help me with this one." John smirked, gingerly brushing a stray golden lock from her angelic face. "…and she did a pretty decent job of it."_

"_Whaaat? But HOW?!"_

_John chuckled and playfully poked her nose. "Simple-she turned me into a tree."_

"_Uncle Jooohhhnnn," Lily giggled, rolling her eyes. _

"_What? They could've made me a tree potion, you know!" he teased, savoring the sounds of her amused laughter._

"_Uncle John- I want to know how you did it!" she whispered restlessly._

"_Alright, alright, just let me ask you this-"_

_Lily threw her head back impatiently, "Uhhhhhggg, Uncle Joohhnnn-"_

"_Hey now, this is it-just hold on with me here: how does a chameleon hide?" he asked, looking at her expectantly with a smile._

"_That's so easy! He uses camouflageeee oohhh my gosh!" she squeaked, "You were just camouflaged!"_

"_That's 'bout it." He chuckled, "We didn't have much to work with, so it was just running and hiding every few seconds to lose them…worked out just as well as turning invisible."_

"_But that's so easy!"_

"_Exactly, with a fast mind like yours," he ruffled his hand through her hair, "-and just as speedy legs, you're good as gone."_

_Sherlock smirked as he entered the room with tea in hand. "Unless, of course, you're invisible…" he winked, causing a grin to crack across Lily's face…_

"Run and hide run and hide run and hide," she whispered to herself, pushing her small body to its limits as she dashed faster toward the greenery. It felt like forever since that conversation had taken place…what she would give to have them here now. The sound of tauntingly slow footsteps came from behind, she felt her lungs tighten at the sound. Her breathing in small gasps, Lily cringed as she collided with the unforgiving ground, the snow scraping against her face.

She felt her body stiffen at the cackling shadow towering over her. "No!" she squeaked in fear as a strong, lengthy arm snaked around her waist and a foul-smelling cloth was roughly pressed to her face. "N-No!" she coughed again, fighting as hard as she could against the sudden fatigue.

"Your 'Uncles' stole everything from me…"

"H-help!" she croaked, feeling her limbs numb and her vision fade as his cackling voice echoed in her emptying mind.

"-so now it's my turn to steal something of theirs!"

Xxxxx

"God, and she _never_ listens to me in the first place…so the one time I look away-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" John finally blurted, his hands clenching into tightened fists as he spoke, barely able to hold in the flood of pained emotions inside him. He couldn't stand one more minute of pacing the room with this…disgusting, woman.

"Me?! I _told_ her to stay close by so this wouldn't happen-" Carol retorted, gesturing wildly with her hands as the two continued to fight.

"Wait-what?!-oh, no no NO! Don't you for one _second_ make this _her_ fault!" John interrupted as he pointed his finger accusingly, his eyes reflecting pure hatred. "If you weren't so careless with even your simplest damned responsibilities, she wouldn't have been taken by the most-" he shook his head, searching for the right words to describe the horror she had caused. "-formidable -criminal, with full intentions to kill!"

Carol gave a short, sarcastic and appalled laugh as she stood and crossed her arms. "So you think I just don't give a shit my daughter was taken in the first place?!"

John fearlessly stepped directly in front of her, their faces practically an inch apart. Carol could barely hide the shiver up her spine when she met his strong gaze. The doctor looked as though he would completely tear her to shreds if she made one more wrong move. "If the boot, fits…" he seethed fiercely.

"How _dare_ you-"

"Hey-that's enough, the both of you!" Lestrade reprimanded, striding into the room with Sherlock close behind. "Arguing isn't helping Lily-"

"Neither is giving her _back_ to this woman!" John exclaimed, "I've had enough-I've _had_ it, with all the bloody _excuses_ she's been going on about for the past ten minutes-!"

"Please, John." Sherlock scoffed, as he checked his phone's inbox for what felt like the hundredth time-finding his hopes crushed seeing there were no new messages. "She isn't worth your time."

"Oh-so this is all somehow my fault?!" Carol cried, not believing her daughter admired such people.

Lestrade sighed with impatience and shook his head as his hands slid into his pockets. "Carol-you can't expect us to just shove aside the fact you let her go out by herself while you were across the street inside a completely different _building."_

John blinked rapidly and shifted his weight back and forth-feeling rage boil inside him. "I'm sorry-what?"

Carol exhaled deeply and turned her gaze to the floor. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"You've got to be kidding me." John shook his head in disbelief. "_I told her to stay close by_, right? So you consider a hundred feet close enough?! What the HELL?!" he growled. Sherlock's gave a disbelieving look to Lestrade-who closed his eyes, about to lose it.

Carol rolled her eyes. "There was a window I was watching from-"

"You're an outrageous excuse for a human being, let alone a mother-" John hissed, quickly exiting the room before he would do anything he would regret. Sherlock automatically glared daggers at Carol.

"How can you stand him?!" Carol demanded her brother, looking more concerned over winning an argument rather than the fact her daughter was gone.

"He isn't a self-centered individual, for one thing." Lestrade snapped, glaring at the woman he thought he knew.

"_Excuse_ me?!" she retorted, stepping forward and looking at him in disbelief. "You have no right-you have no idea what it's like being a single mother with-"

"I may not be directly in your shoes, Carol- but I'm not a complete moron, either." He sighed, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous-you're…just no-go home."

Carol ran her fingers through her hair stressfully, worried he was taking the side of that Watson character instead of his own sister. "Greg, my daughter was kidnapped, you can't expect me to just sit around waiting for news about her-"

Sherlock snorted, catching both Lestrade's attention. "Is that not similar to what you've been doing this entire time?"

"Greg!" Carol turned to her brother for backup.

"Out." He said coldly, his tone unforgiving as he pointed out the station's door.

"Greg…" Carol started, looking hurt.

"Your presence is useless at this time." Sherlock's gaze narrowed, feeling a sense of responsibility over Lily that her mother obviously could not provide. "I suggest you leave before you make matters worse." And with that, the detective was stomping through the labyrinth of offices, only to disappear around a corner in the direction John had headed.

"Greg!"

"I. Said. Out." And with that, Lestrade followed the same path, and made his way to his office.

Carol waited impatiently, but felt her heart stop when he turned the corner. She slowly walked outside, silent as she opened the car doors and sat inside. She inhaled deeply as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Something big had changed between her and her brother. When he had walked away from her…

He didn't look back once….

Xxxxx

"She's so inconsiderate!"

"John-she's Carol." Lestrade smirked, parking the police car in front of what appeared to be a cemetery. The three climbed out to find snowflakes falling softly from the grey sky above.

"God, I know-and I'm sorry she's your sister." John muttered honestly, pushing dark thoughts on their little girl's whereabouts out of his head for the moment.

"Believe me-so am I." Lestrade replied, taking both detectives by surprise. "She's not who she used to be…"

"Has she gone home?" Sherlock asked, checking his phone once more…no new messages.

"She better be-we've got work to do." Lestrade replied, muttering in the cold as he ducked under the police tape and treaded through the snow to Donovan, with the detectives at his heels. "What have you got?" he asked urgently.

"Two pairs of tracks heading towards the woods," she pointed, "but they both stop at the same spot, with signs of a struggle."

Sherlock looked to the gravestone where it was obvious Lily had stopped for quite some time. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Lestrade beat him to it. "Carol's husband…he died when she was five-hit straight on by a drunk driver one night coming home." Sherlock nodded solemnly. It was then he noticed the larger footprints accompanying Lily's.

"They just disappear?" John asked, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably with concern as they followed the faint foot imprints in the deepening snow. It was all too obvious the smaller footprints were running from those of the larger.

"Yep-here." Donovan gestured, placing a hand on her cocked hip. "We've searched the perimeter, there's no sign of any continuation of theirs…on foot, at least."

"Dammit…" Lestrade sighed, staring at the tracks intently. "You sure you didn't miss _any_thing?"

"Pretty positive, we've been out here for a good half hour."

"Perhaps you should have made use of your time." Sherlock muttered, pushing by and standing at the very edge of the woods. "She was obviously running for the cover of the dense greenery…"

"This man is a good four times her size-he could have snatched her when she had started running." Donovan shrugged. "Why'd he wait?"

John shifted his weight to the opposite foot anxiously. "It's a game to him…he wanted to kill her last shred of hope before…this." He gestured uncomfortably to the scene.

Sherlock lifted a pile of snow from the area and cautiously breathed in it's unusual scent. "A sleep inducing drug was used," he stated, "Strong and effective-likely a heavy dose of Gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid…"

"What the hell is that?" Donovan asked, shooing away another officer.

"GHB." John muttered in thought, not liking the sound of Sherlock's dark tone.

"God, you can't be serious." Lestrade muttered to himself, then turned to Donovan. "Have you finished here?"

"Can't find anything else." She shook her head sadly, almost feeling Sherlock's annoyed gaze on her back.

"Alright then-crime scene's theirs, then-" he gestured toward the two detectives, "I'm calling Carol to get what Lily was wearing today for a description, get any witnesses you can," he ordered, walking to his car.

"What? You're leaving this to the two freaks to handle-" she began.

"Yes-now get to work." He snapped, dialing on his phone.

Donovan turned to the two detectives, and sighed. "…just find her…" she stated, a subtle pleading tone in her words.

Now alone, John stood beside his flatmate. "I don't believe her." He stated.

"Hmm?"

"The footsteps. They couldn't have just disappeared."

Sherlock stood and observed the tracks intently once more. "They didn't disappear, but he gave that appearance." He explained.

"How?" John asked.

"There-" the detective pointed, walking and kneeling down beside what appeared to be a smooth patch of snow-as found anywhere else in the graveyard. "-this snow is rigid…"

"Rigid?" John asked, kneeling down across from him.

"Loose, light, messed up-if you will, it was placed here on purpose." Gently swiping the side of his hand against the snow in a slow rhythm, the snow moved easily, practically floating away from his hand. "To cover these."

John felt his muscles tense as one footprint after the other were revealed, heading toward the front corner of the cemetery. "Sherlock?"

"What? What is it?" he replied, not liking the haunted look on his friends face.

"They lead there." He pointed, standing and already making his way to the area.

Upon reaching their destination, Sherlock inspected the dimly glowing Christmas lights along the cemetery fence, the few cracked and broken globes being obvious indications of careless movement in this corner.

"Aha." John breathed as he pushed the corner where the two fences met. Both sides opened against his strength, the frozen hinges shrieking in protest. "A corner door…" he stated in disbelief.

"So it would seem…" Sherlock replied, following John into the abandoned sidewalk, viewing the equally empty street.

"Why here?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded towards the corner of the street that turned onto a different road. "Oil drainage from what is safe to assume to be an SUV on the corner indicates they were parked there for quite some time, waiting for him to return with their target. The question is, in which direction did they leave…"

John followed Sherlock to further inspect the stains, but froze. "Sherlock."

"He was clearly watchful of his tire tracks-"

"_Sherlock_."

"What?"

John massaged his forehead stressfully and gestured to the curb of the sidewalk. Sherlock felt his heart skip a beat at the shade of dark violet.

A familiar purple scarf slightly fluttered in the breeze, buried in the Christmas snowfall…

**Any suggestions for the next words? Next plot point? Cookie recipies?**

**Reviews = LOVE!  
**


	10. Seasonal Sherlock: Holiday Spirit

**Friiidaayy!**_  
_

**I won't get into the details of why I'm a bit late (shared a cold with the family, they shared it back! XD ) but here we are!  
**

**I wanted to sneak a little fluff in here considering all the dark themes going on so far-and what better way than with a little surprise reference and a flashback?  
**

**Sha bang.  
**

**Big thanks to Aviatress, Moos (guest), Arty Diane, theAwesomeReader, Guest, and Alexandria Keating, for reviewing-you all inspire me so much, thank you!  
**

**Also thank you to all who have favorited and followed-y'all rock!  
**

**"Hey Rainbow, can you help me with this math problem?"**

**"Oh sure! I love math!"  
**

**"Rainbow, math is horrible! How can you love it?!"  
**

**"Well how else will you calculate when you have enough funding to buy Sherlock?"  
**

**I seriously love math though...  
**

**I'm done talking, enjoy!  
**

**Sherlock (Christmas Specialllllll) Holiday Celebrations  
**

**Holiday-Spirit: 13 letters + 1 punctuation mark = 14 characters = 1,400 words  
**

"God,_ Lily-aren't you tired?" John chuckled, yawning._

_"Pleeease Uncle John? Just one?" she begged, gnawing at her lower lip in anticipation._

_John took a look around the living space. The warm glow of the fire made the flat seem just a bit cozier than usual as the sky darkened outside and snowflakes slowly made their way to the London streets. "I actually don't know if we've got anything you'll really like…" he trailed off, mystified by the drifting ice crystals. _

_"Of course we do, John," Sherlock responded, coming out from his room with a large stack of books in hand. "This is not some ordinary child we're talking about." He reminded, plopping the stack on the doctor's lap to choose from._

_"Right, but…Sherlock- "The Periodic Table of Elements"? Really?" John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock stat himself on the other side of the couch. Lily felt giddy inside at being in the middle-she felt like part of the bizarre family there._

_"Both educational and entertaining-is there an issue?" he smirked in reply._

_"All I know is when I was seven; I didn't pick up any books like this…" John shrugged, inspecting the inside of the heavy textbook. _

_"Oh-" Lily intervened, finally seeing the cover of the book. She recognized the author almost immediately. "That's a good one!"_

_John paused. "Wait-you've-?"_

_Sherlock couldn't have worn a smugger smile. "Yes-it is a good one, haven't __you__ read it, John?"_

_The doctor merely rolled his eyes in response and sifted through the rest of Sherlock's book selection. "Scientific Method…Human Anatomy…Medical Practicing-wait, Sherlock, I am __not__ re-reading my medical textbooks again," he snickered, placing the pile back on the floor._

_"The Human Anatomy one is my favorite." Lily stated, toying with the large blanket that spilled across her lap and onto the floor. "-of the doctor ones, I mean." She clarified. "I can't choose between the science ones…"_

_John blinked in surprise. "You've read these too?"_

_"Yeah-but I usually need some help from Ms. Slagle. She's my teacher, but I think she's a friend too." She explained, thinking back fondly. "She stays with me after school and reads along with me. I get a new one every month from the library. It's so much fun with her-better than a stupid daycare like Mommy was thinking."_

_"She sounds delightful." Sherlock commented, smirking as John shook his head in surprise._

_"She is." Lily smiled proudly. "And she loves reading with me."_

_"How either of you enjoy such dry things baffles me." John admitted, gazing into the fire._

_"I won't mind reading one again." Lily stated quickly, hopeful to get a book read to her this evening. _

_John's eyes seemed to light up with an epiphany as he tore his gaze from the fire and stood. "I think I've got a better idea," he said, gesturing to wait as he shuffled into his room. _

_"Hmm…this looks to be promising." Sherlock muttered, hearing hurried shuffling sounds from the doctor's general area. "Are you chilled?" he asked Lily._

_She looked to him with a smile. "Nope! I'm cozy!"_

_"Good, because I'm cold-" he chuckled, scooping her into his arms and settling her in his lap, draping the blanket over them comfortably. They left just enough room for John on the other end. "That's better!"_

_"Sure is!" Lily giggled, feeling warm inside without the blanket or fire. She hadn't felt this contented in a long while…things back at home weren't at the best of sorts at the time. However, she always had Baker Street to run to…and the people inside were those who meant most to her. "I love you so much Uncle Sherlock…" she murmured, resting her head on his chest._

_The detective closed his frosty eyes and lightly kissed the top of her head. "As I do you…" he replied lovingly, reflecting on just how much this little one had unlocked inside him. It was incredibly odd, the effect Lily had…she was merely seven, after all-and related to Greg Lestrade, for goodness sakes…_

_Whatever it was, Sherlock was glad it was there…he took a quiet moment to ponder her future. Lily was such a vibrant spirit and intelligent individual at such a young age-she could reach unimaginable heights in her life if she tried… Blinking in realization at just how small her hand was in his, he concluded she was growing to be something quite special. _

_"Found it!" John announced as he strolled back into the room. He took a look at the two before smirking. "Blanket hoggers…" he teased, his words earning a laugh from Lily. _

_"What is that?" Sherlock asked curiously at the book in John's hand. It was unlike any other in his collection-specialty green binding in a matching case-like holder. He obviously had it tucked away somewhere special in his room…_

_"It's my favorite book," John replied, carefully sliding the book out of its box and dusting it off lovingly. _

_"Is it?" Sherlock muttered, more to himself than John. He hadn't heard him mention he even had a favorite book before-he was constantly reading novels when he had the time, so this was a big statement. He deduced the novel was well-loved and used, judging by the foxing around the edges of each page and the slight discoloring on its cover._

_"By far." John added, setting the box aside and settling himself on the other side of the couch. "I think you'll both like it."_

_"Yay!" Lily squeaked, relaxing into a 'story-listening' position and looking to John with excited eyes. The snow outside and the fire inside made this the best time for reading. _

_The doctor opened the book and snickered at the faded "Starry Night" bookmark left behind on the inside cover. "So that's where I put it…"_

_"Get on with it already!" Sherlock edged on in a very childish way-looking even more enthusiastic than Lily-and that was saying something. "Start reading."_

_It took all in John's power not to laugh out loud at his flatmate's facial expression of eagerness-it matched Lily's almost perfectly. "Alright alright-" he shushed, removing the bookmark. "Ready?" he asked jokingly._

_"Yes!" they both hissed._

_"Thought so." John chuckled, turning his attention back to the book. He flipped to the first chapter; the familiar words making him smile as he began reading with a voice Sherlock swore was __made__ for story-telling. _

_"In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit…"_

Xxxxx

"We never finished…"

Sherlock looked to John with a confused facial expression. He hadn't really spoken since they called for the cab-so this seemed a bit peculiar. "Finished what?"

The doctor sighed as he continued to gaze out the taxi window. The snow appeared to fall the same way it did a few weeks ago when that memory had taken place. It was a haunting feeling. "…The Hobbit…" he muttered, obviously lost in his thoughts.

Sherlock didn't reply. The fact unsettled him. John was almost talking as if that was the last time they _would_ see her…but the detective knew better-John was more hopeful than Lestrade and Carol combined…but somehow, he still found the statement a bit nerve-wracking…even for him.

Subconsciously running his thumb over Lily's violet scarf, Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting countless deductions and solutions whir throughout his mind. Something-anything-to get them closer to finding her.

"Did you hear me?"

"What?"

"Your phone. It vibrated." John simply stated, the fist over his mouth slightly muffling his words as he leaned an elbow on the car door.

"So it did…" he muttered in reply, now seeing the lighted screen shining through his coat pocket.

"It's not him, is it?"

"…I'm afraid so." Sherlock's gaze met with John's, and they both simply looked each other in the eye for a moment-knowing whatever the message said, they would face it together one way or another.

They both skimmed over the phone's text with eager eyes, but it left John more confused than before.

_Almost there, isn't this exciting? _

_We have a game planned for you-but don't try to guess, it's a surprise!_

_JM_

"What the hell is that supposed to imply?" John muttered, massaging his forehead stressfully.

"Obviously we're moving in the right direction…" Sherlock mumbled in reply, reading the words over and over again. "…he wants us to find him." He concluded.

John curtly nodded in response before turning his gaze outside- watching the holiday decorations blur past.

He felt everything but the holiday-spirit.

**I know it ended a bit abrupt and...sad...ish. **

**But trust me, things are about to get pretty epic-to say the LEAST.  
**

**Any word ideas? Preferably something lengthy and inspirational? *for a rescue-hint hint HINTTTTT  
**

**Reviews=Love...Any love?  
**


	11. Seasonal Sherlock: Christmas Miracle

**Happy Late Valentine's to you all!**

**Hope it was a fluffeh day!**

**Sorry about the delay-had a bit of writers block for practically everything utilizing words.**

**Nothin' like a bit of inspirational music and random poetry to get ya goin' again.**

**About Sherlock, of course. :)**

**SPECIAL thank you to Alexandria Keating, Moos (My wonderful friend-how was your Valentines? :) , Arty Diane, Miam (Guest-love your username!), and Anonymous (Guest)-I brought a special someone back for ya!**

**You'll all see within the first few sentences. :)**

**Also thanks to all those favoriting and following!**

**Friend: "Let's listen to some music to cheer you up!"  
**

**Rainbow *smiles* : "Alrighty!" *puts iPod on shuffle***

**"If I ruled the world...I'd throw all mah money in the air like confetti/**

**If I ruled the world, every house'd have a dj and a backyard party!"**

**Friend: "What's wrong? I thought you liked this song?"**

**Rainbow: "WHY ON EARTH COULDN'T THEY GIVE ME SHERLOCK IF THEY RULED THE WORLD?!"  
**

**Because they don't.**

**And they wouldn't give it to me anyway.**

**BECAUSE I DON'T OWN SHERLOCK.**

**Meh.**

**Alrighty, I'm done talking-ENJOY!**

**Sherlock Holiday Specialllllll!**

**Hope for a Christmas Miracle = 24 letters = 2,400 words**

"Look, you-you-"

"Yes, me." Violet Holmes sighed, crossing her arms and shooting a knowing glance to Mycroft, who stood leaning on his cane with her cell phone in hand. They had been here for a half an hour, stuck with Carol in Lestrade's office. Mummy Holmes was playing a dangerous game with just as dangerous people in order to gain information as to Lily's location.

Her cell phone was practically the key to the door the little Lestrade was trapped behind-and if she could just get these people to turn that key for her…From the lengthy rant Sherlock had provided-as well as Mycroft's tale of his meeting with her-she was desperate to find Lily. Violet was pulling every string possible to get her back, and here was Carol-arguing with her over her interference rather than even attempting to do anything.

"Look-" Carol started again, cocking a hip and dramatically waving her hand. "You have NO idea what it's like to be a single mother working her ass off to raise her kids that were abandoned by the only father they knew-"

"Hun," Violet giggled, shaking her head. "I have every idea of 'what it's like'. Except MY husband's abandoning wasn't through a car accident death-he left our lives with nothing but a foreclosed house and his wedding ring…"

Mycroft smirked at Carol's wide eyes and dropped jaw.

"Ha-" she continued, pointing her finger judgmentally as she stepped closer to Violet. "You've raised two children-I have been raising _three_ by myself." She stated proudly.

"You have three children," Violet nodded, pausing to tuck a stray golden curl from her face. "But you've only been _raising_ two, Ms. Lestrade. In addition-this new dreadful man you've acquired had scarred the third child, if not all of them. Abuse is no form of love, Carol. "

"Ex_cuse _me?" Carol shouted, hatred and shame glossing over her eyes. "You –how do you even know? You have NO right to talk to me like this-"

"I have every right." Violet smiled, looking as calm and content as ever.

"Furthermore-you have NO right to be here, this is my child-she is not of your concern!"

"Mummy-" Mycroft attempted to interject, staring at his mother's phone screen with a smile.

"Oh, she certainly is."

"And why the hell do you think so-she's _my_ daughter, for Christ's sakes!" Carol practically screamed.

"Mummy-" Mycroft tried again.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ms. Lestrade-I've almost forgotten to tell you-"

"MUMMY!"

Violet immediately swiveled on her heels to face her son. "Yes love?"

Handing her the phone, Mycroft smiled as his mother emitted a childish "Squee!" of joy before rapidly texting the forwarded message to her youngest son.

"Wha-what-did you find her?" Carol asked in a doubtful tone. "Have you found my daughter?!"

"On the contrary, Ms. Lestrade, I have found MY daughter," Violet corrected, "The only task now is to go get her." She added in a mutter, sending the text and already making her way out of the office with Mycroft close behind.

Carol followed heatedly, shaking her head wildly. "She is NOT your damned daughter!" she snarled.

"Oh!" Violet exclaimed, coming to complete stop (and causing Mycroft to bump into her as a result). "She's not," she smiled proudly, unfolding a document from her pocket as she approached Carol. "But she may as well be."

Narrowing her gaze, Carol snatched the paper from Mummy Holmes' hands and skimmed through the fateful words with wide eyes. "Y-you…L-Lily is m-my, my daughter!" she choked, not believing what she was reading.

"Biologically, maybe so," Violet cocked her head to the side. "However she is now-and forever- under my custody."

"H-how did you even-"

"Ms. Lestrade- I suggest you give thanks for the two sons you adore, as well as that awful bloke you're so infatuated with-" Violet rolled her eyes. "-and leave this situation alone, for your own good. I personally guarantee the jury of the court will most certainly _not_ be in your favor." And with that, she and Mycroft were strolling down the hall on a strict rescue mission.

"Why you-you little BITCH!" Carol barked after them, her words earning her many dirty looks from the surrounding officers and employees at their workstations.

"Good evening, Ms. Lestrade!" Violet waved as she and Mycroft turned a corner-not looking back once.

Carol stood, staring at the corner in disbelief.

For the first time in her life, she was speechless.

Xxxxx

_The average temperature in Antarctica is approximately forty seven degrees Celsius below zero…_

_Each winter one septillion snowflakes fall from the sky…_

_It takes over one million teenie tiny droplets to make one…_

As interesting as these facts were, they weren't as distracting as Lily had hoped. In fact, they seemed to only make the room feel even colder than it was-and the wounds burn all the more…

If that were possible.

She had to be somewhere outside; there was no conceivable way for such low temperatures in an insulated building…

She wanted to explore in the dark-to be brave to find out where she was-but her numb limbs wouldn't allow her such freedoms. The foul-smelling residue from the rag that had been pressed to her face remained, nauseating her stomach and triggering a growing headache. She wouldn't let the warm unshed tears fall-she wouldn't let him have the satisfaction.

Mostly, though, her mind was occupied on the pain-every nerve on fire, every cell inside screaming in agony at the low temperature that sharply bit at her open wounds.

Sherlock was right…

He was a monster.

"_No."_

"_If I hear you utter that word once more-" he snickered, toying with the glinting knife as though it were a common utensil for such activities. "I'm afraid you will be required to clean the sticky-red stains from the walls yourself…"_

_Her heart skipped a beat, but her mind didn't. "N-no."_

"_Last. Chance."_

"_I won't tell you anything. NO." she felt herself tremble-unable to control the fear and dark emotions swelling inside of her. Knowing all-too-well she was the fly in the spider's web, she shakily curled into the corner and squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the worst._

"_Wrong answer, sweetheart…maybe you'll talk to my friend, here…" he chuckled darkly, leisurely approaching her quivering form, gleefully drinking in the sight. "He has a __sharp__ way with words…"_

"_N-no…" she choked, tasting the bitter tears that slid down her bruised cheeks as she looked him in the cold, unforgiving eyes. "No."_

"_Oh, you'll talk…" Moriarty laughed, kneeling down to hiss in her ear. "And when you do-I'll absorb every…" he paused to gingerly rest the knife's blade on her exposed chin. "…single…word."_

_Swallowing hard, Lily held her position as though she were stone. "Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength…" Sherlock had told her the night she ran into 221B with teary eyes-blubbering of the pain caused by her mother's new boyfriend..._

"…_while loving someone deeply gives you courage." John had finished with a tender smile._

_She was loved- very much- by those who had spoken such words…_

_So when the knife glided against her skin, she held back her tears…and watched in silence as red droplets slowly speckled onto the cement floor._

"_We both know you have much to say…" Moriarty spat, roughly grasping her bleeding chin to force her to look him in the eye. "Care to share with me?"_

_Feeling the blade slide across her arm, she managed to whimper, "Never."_

_And there was never a time she wished so deeply to be back at 221B._

The little Lestrade shivered for what felt like the hundredth time, so she gave sidetracking facts she knew another try-ones to hopefully warm her chilled body.

_About one third of earth's surface is covered in deserts…_

_But only twenty percent of them are covered in sand…_

_The original meaning of 'desert' is-_

"Hahchue!" Lily sneezed, disrupting her train of thought as well as the haunting silence in the black surrounding. She shuddered as the sound echoed off unseen walls, indicating she was indeed in a containment room of some sort. Stretching, she sighed in relief at the tingly feeling in her legs and arms. At least she felt _something_ other than distressing pain.

The little one couldn't help but give a small fearful whimper at the sudden sound of a slamming door in the distance, reverberating through the darkness.

The pins and needles in her legs were gone-and with some effort, she could shakily move them. Slow, ominous footsteps indicated someone-not-so-nice was on his way to find her.

Slowly rocking back and forth, she questioned whether or not to move from her location. There was a high chance of finding herself in deep trouble if she tried-but she was guaranteed just the same if she stayed. At least it was a _bit_ safer sitting and hiding…

He was whistling a lighthearted tune now-pausing every now and then to chuckle wickedly. The noise sent shivers down the little Lestrade's spine.

"I'm sorry I took so long…"

She knew he was grinning without seeing him.

"…had some _business_ matters to attend to…"

Softly trotting ahead, Lily found she was already gasping for air and fighting the fatigue deep in her bones. She moaned at the sudden pain from colliding with an unseen wall.

"But those tend to be such _boring _troubles, don't they? We can do something fun before our guests arrive…"

Wheezing as quietly as she could, she turned away from the origin of Moriarty's voice and stumbled in the opposite direction.

"Oh _dear _me-it looks as though my little Rapunzel has escaped from her tower…"

Lily felt as though she were about to vomit…she most likely would have, if not for the fact she had come face-to-face with yet another wall. Hearing footsteps behind her, she held her breath and did what John's voice in her head told her to.

_Sometimes you don't have a choice but to go with your gut…_

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pushed back the exhaustion overcoming her muscles and ran as fast as her legs would allow her towards her target.

"Ah-there you are…" he chuckled at the sound of her approaching footsteps. "I take it the dark is a bit scary for little gi-"

With the satisfying sound of his body collapsing to the cement floor-Lily managed to smile as she ran toward the direction he originally came from-therefore of the door. Sherlock always told her to pay attention to such details…

Shaking his head angrily as he stood, Moriarty cursed just how strong this annoying little twit was proving herself to be. "_Some_one's in _biiiiig _trouble…" he growled, stomping after his escaping prisoner.

Xxxxx

"Stop-here." Sherlock curtly ordered the taxi driver, catching John by surprise.

Once outside, the tall detective put away his cell phone and lead the way-cocking his handgun in the process.

"Where the hell are we going?" John hissed, alarmed at the sight of his flustered flatmate. Sherlock was never flustered…

Ever.

"Parking garage eighteen-on Hiddlestone Drive." he replied, shuffling through an alleyway.

"Is that where-"

"Yes."

"How are we sure-" the doctor started again.

"Mummy's work." Sherlock replied simply.

Blinking in realization of what was just said; John took no hesitation in snatching Sherlock by the wrist and dragging him along down the alleyway-then taking a left, rather than the planned right Sherlock had in mind.

"John-what are you-"

"There's a shortcut this way-hurry."

To the tall detective's surprise, the shortcut was shorter than he estimated-leading them to the abandoned garage within two minutes. The snow had stopped, but the rain had just started.

"Now what-do we walk through the front door?" John yelled over the pouring rain.

"If we-" Sherlock started, but stopped in mid-sentence.

A blood-curdling scream echoed off the neighboring buildings, sharply piercing the frozen detective's hearts.

"Sherlock-!" John snapped, gesturing above to the parking garage's rooftop with fearful eyes.

"_**LILY!"**_

Xxxxx

Panting, Lily felt hot tears sting her eyes as she pushed through the heavy door and immediately climbed the small staircase to the windowed exit above-the sun shining through as a sign of hope for freedom.

"You've been quite the inconvenience, _darling_," Moriarty snarled, stalking up the stairs just as she stumbled out the exit. The door's hinges squealed in protest as he burst through, grinning mischievously at the sight of his prey shaking in fear a mere few yards ahead. "And after how _nice_ I've been to you…"

Shaking her head wildly in search for an answer, Lily felt herself hyperventilating as Moriarty advanced from behind. She was on a rooftop-the alleyways a good ten stories below. The snow falling from the dark clouds above were slowly becoming rain droplets-and before Lily knew it, she was soaking wet, practically shivering to death as the water made its way into her burning cuts.

"Well Mr. Nice is_ gone now!"_

Feeling deadly arms snake around her waist and neck, Lily mustered up her remaining strength and let out a terrified and agonized scream that echoed off the surrounding abandoned buildings. The tears held back from hours ago flooded down her cheeks, blending with the drenching rain.

"_**LILY!"**_

"Well well weeeelllll!" Moriarty squeaked, leaning over the edge to see none other than his 'party guests' soaking on the sidewalk with handguns pointed his way. "Look who's finally arrived! Do come in, would you?" he yelled.

"PUT. HER. DOWN." Sherlock ordered sternly, his gaze stone cold.

"Aw, but I've set everything up for you!" Moriarty pouted, roughly tightening his death grip on the little Lestrade.

Seeing Lily whither and choke helplessly above snapped John in half. "LET HER GO NOW OR I SHOOT!" he bellowed, aiming his handgun

"It took me so long, too-" Moriarty paused as a gunshot echoed and bullets whirred past- two inches from his head. "My goodness, aren't we excited tonight!" he exclaimed. Smirking at the two detectives reloading their guns and the hatred etched in their faces, he spread one arm out over the edge theatrically and held Lily in a choke-hold with the other.

"You want her, Sherlock?!" he cackled loudly, an ominous gleam in his eye. "You truly want her back?! _COME AND GET HER_!"

And with that, Moriarty was gone-disappearing from the detectives' sight as he made his way across the rooftop to head back downstairs.

He laughed to himself in an almost psychotic way as he shuffled down the stairs. "You'd better hope for a Christmas miracle."

**Duhm duhm duuuuuuuummmmmmmmm-uh!**

**You betchya-the next one is da rescue mission, again, DUHM DUHM DUUUMMMMMM!  
**

**Any ideas for a much nicer holiday theme/word to save Lily?  
And hopefully have some good ol fashioned holiday cookehs?**

**Reviews=LOVE!**

**Spread da LOVE!**


	12. Seasonal Sherlock: Christmas Eve

**Sorry for the tardy, everybody-I've already started on the next one though-woohoo!**

**You guys have been so awesome to me-thank you all so much for the reviews, you have no idea how much they fuel me to write!**

**So a huge thank you to Alexandria Keating, Moos (guest-I'm sorry about your Valentines, if it makes you feel any better-I had the same situation!), Anonymous (guest), ArtyDiane, Aviatress, Miam (guest), and theAwesomeReader-I simply cannot thank you all enough, thank you thank you!**

**Also thank you to all those favoriting and following-hope you're enjoying!**

**Let's get to this here story!**

***Someday when Rainbow is an adult*  
**

**_Rainbow Jr:_ "Mommy-tell me a story!"**

**_Rainbow:_ "Once upon a time, in the magical land of Fanfiction, your mother-achem, a princess- ran into someone who knew someone who knew some one who knew someone's cousin who knew Benedict Cumberbatch-achem, a handsome prince, and so I-um, the princess- was lucky enough to meet the one dude's cousin who in turn introduced her to Benedict-achem, the prince-and some magical connection happened: they fell in love, got married, had a beautiful child, and lived happily ever after!"**

**_Benedict:_ *peeking from around the door-eavesdropping* "And THAT'S how I met your mother!" *cheesy wink*  
**

**But that isn't what happened.**

**And I don't own Sherlock.**

**Oh gawd, I'm such a loner. **

**Enough of that, enjoy!**

**Seasonal Sherlock Spec-eall! (trying to sound French... didn't really work.)**

**Merry Christmas Eve, my darling... =26 letters + 4 punctuation marks =30 characters =3,000 words**

"GodDAMMIT!" John furiously exclaimed into the pouring storm- his mind whirring to a blur with countless thoughts for a solution to the quickly growing problem.

Snatching Sherlock's wrist and directing him to follow, the doctor immediately sprinted to the parking garage's entrance safety bar, barely skimming its rusted surface as he leaped over-gun clenched in hand.

"John-take a left," Sherlock directed, not more than three steps behind as they dashed past the empty elevator shaft. The doctor skidded on his heels to make a ninety degree turn to the left, not surprised to find a hidden staircase-undoubtedly leading up to the roof.

One corridor after the other-sharply turning what felt to be countless corners just to climb up endless staircases. John couldn't help but curse under his breath at the fact he couldn't push his body to go any faster than he already was. Little did he know Sherlock was thinking the exact same thing.

Sudden desperate cries of their names that echoed off the pale walls pierced the detectives' hearts, only further fueling the fire of rage for their enemy.

Slipping around one last corner, John froze and practically choked in horror at the sight of the grey gravestone-colored metallic door *clicking* and locking shut. The water trickling down the door's window indicated it was indeed the exit to the roof.

Instantaneously taking a running start, John rammed his upper side into the door-which made a creaking noise in response. "For Christ's sake…" the doctor grumbled, feverishly rattling the door handle while shoving into the door in an attempt to break it open completely.

"John-step back," Sherlock ordered, cocking his handgun and slowly stepping backwards down the staircase in a solemn fashion.

Hearing the grave undertone of his voice, John exhaled deeply and moved aside, leaning against the bar and massaging his now aching shoulder. "Locked tight-I don't see how we're going to be able to-_holy shi_-!"

John practically flipped backward over the edge of the railing trying to avoid Sherlock, who dashed right past and slammed into the door just as the doctor had- but this time using his handgun to forcefully snap the doorknob clean off the metal slate and sending it clattering down the staircase.

Without another word, Sherlock grasped John by the sleeve and ran out the door-now squeaking on its hinges, allowing the pouring rain inside.

Xxxxx

"N-no!"

His touch was cold-a chilling smooth surface that almost burned her skin-like fresh ice.

But his eyes were colder…a frozen, barren wasteland-where no shred of light touched its freezing surface.

"Please! P-please let m-me go!"

Eyes that glinted diabolically at the sound of her beseeching words, and elatedly drank in the sight of her futile struggling against his death grip around her neck.

"Let m-me GO!"

"Hush." Moriarty suddenly hissed. He paused on the second staircase and listened intently-hearing the sound of running footsteps and shuffling persons in the distant corridors to their location.

"Uncle Sher-Sherlock! HELP!" Lily screamed desperately-her voice echoing off the bare walls. "Up here! Uncle Joh-!" she wheezed, unable to finish on account of Moriarty's hand suddenly clenching her throat so tightly.

"Should've knooooowwn…" he sang with a chuckle, quickly making a turn and taking his hostage once more through the door and onto the soaking-wet rooftop. "I've never seen your precious 'uncles' so fast and determined before…" he practically giggled, unceremoniously flinging her petite body across the rooftop-skidding over the wet pavement and eventually ramming mercilessly into the cement ledge with a sickening snap.

The harsh raindrops were little daggers on her sore skin and open wounds, the water blending with her blood to make pink splatters on the concrete as she trembled there-cold, broken, and breathless.

"This is going to be _quite_ enjoyable…" Moriarty muttered, his voice barely audible through the fast and heavy raindrops that were continuously snapping against the concrete. "…to see the horrified look on their faces the split-second they take notice of your blood and brains painted against this entire rooftop." With a dark chuckle, he casually slid out a handgun from his overcoat pocket and aimed the barrel at Lily's forehead as he stalked closer.

"Any last words, my little _princess_?" he spat, grinding his teeth together as he grinned wickedly, his finger teasingly pulling back the trigger at an unbearably slow rate.

Her lungs still screaming for air after the collision with the cement ledge, Lily could only choke out a small whimper in response, finding it agonizingly impossible to move with fear completely freezing her aching nerves.

"No? That's alright-you'll screams will suffice just fine…" he cackled, staring her down with his intimidating gaze, adoring the obvious fear reflecting in her glossy sapphire eyes.

In a split second, the door to the rooftop was burst open, screaming on its hinges in protest.

And in a split-second, a fateful trigger was pulled back-and the sound of a sharp gunshot echoed off the surrounding empty buildings.

"NO!" John exclaimed. He immediately felt himself become light-headed and heavy at the same time, intense fear and anger engulfing his body as the gunshot's sound hauntingly reverberated in his skull, afraid to look to its origin.

Forcing his eyes open, the doctor was surprised to find his flatmate's gun emitting a small puff of gunpowder smoke, indicating exactly where the shot came from. Shifting his gaze in front of them, John felt relief wash over him at the sight of the blood seeping through Moriarty's coat, but found himself taken aback by the condition Lily was in-she looked so much worse this close, he almost didn't want to take a step further.

But Sherlock wouldn't allow him to avoid such horrors, as the detective roughly pushed John forward alongside with him, looking bold as ever with his knuckles whitening due to the grip on his handgun. "It ends now." He barked.

"This was my good arm you know," Jim chuckled, unfazed as he uncomfortably held his bleeding shoulder and slowly swiveled on his heels to face the detectives, not three yards away by this point. "No reason to be so feisty when I've been so nice to invite you here…little Lily here has been quite anxious for your arrival. Too bad you came late." He seethed with a Cheshire Cat-like smile that unnerved even Sherlock as he gestured to the coughing and bleeding girl struggling to even sit up.

"Go to HELL!" John roared, taking two long strides before powerfully swinging his fist to collide with his enemy's chin with a sickening snap before Moriarty could even process what John had shouted.

Stumbling backward, he gripped his now throbbing jaw and spat blood onto the concrete. "How about you come with me?!" he cackled, painfully lifting his injured arm and shooting multiple rounds at the doctor, who-much to his displeasure-crouched to the ground and barrel-rolled to a safe distance before the bullets reaches his position. Damned army soldier…

"I'm afraid you are quite late for your arrival already," a familiar deep voice hissed from behind, just as a lengthy arm snaked around his neck and mercilessly thrust him to the unforgiving ground with a crack. His vision clear one second, then blurry the next, Moriarty gave the detective towering above him a bloody grin as he coughed painfully.

"How…_sweet_ of you…to be so concerned over my _schedule-keeping_…" he rasped between coughs, giggling uncontrollably as he met Sherlock's icy gaze. "So you do…keep me in that… itty-bitty heart of yours somewhere, do you?"

After a glance to Lily's shivering form, the detective practically growled. Pure hatred flashed across Sherlock's eyes as he menacingly lifted Moriarty by the collar and slammed him into the metallic door with a *clang*. "Your being has never so much as scratched the surface of that place," he spat, his grip tightening and gaze narrowing.

Meanwhile, after witnessing Sherlock's impressive takedown of their enemy, John turned his attention to the sound of familiar footsteps-feeling a mixture of guilt and joy as Lily ran to him with complete adoration in her voice. "Uncle John!"

"Thank _god_-" Running to meet with her halfway, the doctor immediately scooped Lily into his arms and held her protectively close, feeling her warm tears soak through his sweater as she pressed herself to his shoulder. Feeling odd fatherly instincts take over, John slightly rocked them back and forth as thoughts whirred through his already dizzy brain. Though she was the strongest little girl he knew-she was seven…seven, for God's sakes. "Lily-oh god, shhh-it's alright, I've got you-" he soothed, closing his eyes in relief as he buried his face in the crook of her neck lovingly. "Oh, Christ… it's alright. Lily -"

The nauseating sounds of what he could only imagine were breaking bones caused John to open his eyes, a bit surprised to see Sherlock taking out uncontrollably fury on their wounded enemy-tossing him to the ground effortlessly-like a limp puppet snipped of its strings.

And the puppet was laughing anyway.

"Sherlock-" John interjected, watching as his flatmate ruthlessly lifted Moriarty once more and delivered a sturdy punch to the chest-a sickening snap emitting as he did so. "Sherlock! Stop!"

Moriarty simply chuckled, blood dripping from the sides of his lips and through his nose, which John deduced was quite broken.

It was obvious Sherlock was past the point of rage, and he knew interfering was out of the question, watching his friend slam their enemy into the door once again before pulling back for another swing. John turned away and held Lily to his chest in an attempt to hide from the scene altogether. "Sherlock-stop!" he called, "Don't go too far!" He couldn't imagine Sherlock doing so, but from what he had just witnessed, he felt anything was possible.

More snaps and cracks, then the sound of the door to the rooftop swaying open.

"Sherlock-Sherlock, darling-he's not going anywhere!" a familiar honeyed-voice informed. "Sherlock-enough!"

Turning, John sighed in relief to see none other than Mummy Holmes herself with Mycroft, pulling at his flatmate to release Moriarty from his death grip.

"Sherlock-listen to me!" Mycroft barked, forcefully tearing one of his brother's arms away, almost fighting against him to keep it in position. Sherlock's gaze never tore from Jim's smiling one. "It's. Over."

"Sherlock-love, love look at me." Violet cupped a hand to his cheek, turning his head and forcing their gazes to meet. "Let go…"

His chest rapidly rising and falling, Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but found no words would come. He tried again, but stopped, staring into the warm understanding eyes of his mother. "Let…go…" she whispered.

Exhaling sharply as if coming out of a trance, Sherlock did just that-watching Moriarty hit the cement ground once more, the corners of his bloody lips twitching upward to form an all too joyful -looking smile.

"Leave it…to…Mother, to put you in…your place…" he coughed, blood spurting from his mouth as he began laughing hysterically. "Just…can't…kill me…can you?" he cackled.

"Disgusting." Violet snorted, scrunching her nose as she whipped out a sleek handgun and pointed it at Moriarty's forehead.

"Mummy-!" Mycroft started.

"Relax, darling." She assured, moving her aim to the side and pulling the trigger, the bullet wedging into his other shoulder. With a grunt of agony, Jim coughed in pain. "Laugh again and I may accidentally miss the less-important areas." She threatened, stepping back and pulling Sherlock with her.

Moriarty watched with a bloody smile as John joined the Holmes', Lily in his arms-a frightened look in her glossy eyes. But it was Sherlock's unwavering gaze that gave him pride-the frosty orbs looked as though they were searching for something that was not there.

With a chuckle, he realized his theory was official.

He was a complete monster in their eyes…all of them…

And finally, even his favorite detective…

Mycroft quickly took notice of this and harshly jabbed his cane into Moriarty square in the chest. "I guarantee this will not be the slightest bit humorous in the morning…" he stated gravely, knowing unconsciousness would take over their enemy any moment. "Then again…" he smirked, watching Jim's gaze become much colder. "I'm sure_ I_ will find it quite amusing…"

Xxxxx

"No-Harold. Get out-now."

"Carol-listen to yourself, this is absurd!"

"I. Said. Out." Carol hissed, anger boiling inside her as she twisted her engagement ring and eventually slipped it off. "Don't you dare come within five hundred feet of this household-or my children." She spat, heatedly chucking the ring at the man standing in the doorframe. It bounced off his leather jacket and *clink-clinked* on the tile floor, slowing to a steady roll and circling to land in front of his feet.

"Okay-NOW I'm starting to get angry," Harold barked, raising his muscular arm to land a powerful slap across Carol's face.

With a squeak of pain, she looked back to find Anthony and Jarrod watching from the staircase, pain written on their pale faces as they looked on, deadly afraid of Harold going any further.

"Tony-Jarrod, honey, go upstairs." She whispered.

"Don't move," Harold countermanded.

"Go on, I'll take care of this. I promise." Carol weakly smiled, adoration written in her glistening eyes as the boys chose to follow her out of love rather than follow Harold out of fear.

"Oh, you guys are gonna get it for this-you listen to ME," he roared, clenching his fists as he advanced toward the staircase-but Carol stepped in front of him before he made it to the bottom step.

"Get out-and never, ever, come back." She pointed to the open door-her stance not wavering for a second as he coldly stared her down. "I never want to see your damned face again."

"You'll be lucky if you get to see at all-" he seethed, clipping his ex-fiancé in the abdomen, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the cry of pain she emitted.

Stumbling and leaning against the staircase rail to stand, Carol coughed, "Get….out…"

She had seen him angry-his dark eyes would flare, and his muscular arms would contract just before the pain would start…and afterwards his chocolate orbs were warm, and his tone loving as he would apologize….Empty words…that's all they were.

"G-get OUT!" Carol cried, mustering ever bit of courage she had to slap him with a shivering hand. "Now!"

"You bitch!" he barked, roughly kicking her to the wall with uncontrollable anger. "I have every right to be here-"

Sliding down the wall in defeat, Carol prepared herself for the worst, knowing a macabre scene and another layer of pain was about to be served…she was trapped. Again.

"Actually, the only right you possess at the moment is to remain silent." A familiar voice snapped from the doorway as numerous policemen flooded into the foyer. "Harold Evans, you're under arrest under multiple charges of domestic violence, illegal substance dealing, and from some files I dug up- I found manslaughter's available on the table as well."

"The hell-?!" Harold spat, flinching uncomfortably at the icy handcuffs sliding and locking onto his wrists. "Oh you're going to get it for this, bitch!" he yelled to Carol, who buried her face in her hands to hide from his menacing eyes as she felt hot tears sting her eyes.

"Get him out of here."

And with that, Harold was forcefully dragged outside and into the backseat of a police car, never to return to the flat.

"Oh…my god…" Carol whimpered, finally letting the floodgates open and allowing the tears to stream down her face as she shakily clenched her fists to her knees.

"Carol-"

She looked up through teary eyes to find her savior kneeling down next to her and taking her hand in his. "G-Greg…I'm…I'm so-so…s-sorry…" she choked.

"Carol, don't ever be sorry for that bastard," he told her sternly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "He's never going to hurt you again-I promise."

"I…I was…I've been s-so wrong, Greg, about everything…" she shakily told him, desperately wishing for a way back to the past.

"Then we'll start anew, alright?" Lestrade smiled encouragingly, helping his sister to her trembling feet and hugging her to his shoulder. "We'll just begin again…"

"I'm so sorry…for everything." She whispered, knowing the universe blessed her with the most perfect brother she could ask for.

"And I forgive you for everything," he chuckled, gesturing for Donovan to get the car started as he pulled away. "Grab the kids and we'll get out of here for a bit." He told her, wiping a tear from her face with his thumb. "Sound good?"

Smiling, Carol found herself speechless for the second time that day.

Xxxxx

Small snowflakes leisurely drifted outside the windows of London, slowly coating the ground in a fresh white blanket-just in time for the holidays, as it always seemed to do.

Depending on who you ask, the holiday snowfall has a meaning. To some, it is the sign of a fresh year approaching; to others, a reminder of the existing miracles, and still to others, a simple change of weather.

But to those in 221B, it was something much more than all those combined. It was a signal of a new start-a snowfall to soak up the haunting rain of the weeks before that was stained with the blood of loved ones forever.

And to those in a secretive abode a few miles south, it was the exact same-just with a little addition to top it all off.

"Lily…Lily hun, wake up…"

Violet watched in complete adoration as the little one's sapphire eyes tiredly fluttered open, the blankets covering her from nose to toe.

"Morning, sweetheart…" she greeted, smoothing a hand over Lily's forehead and tucking stray hair behind her ear.

"Good morning Mummy," she smiled, yawning in mid-sentence.

Violet giggled at the sight before glancing outside the window. "Well would you look at that…" she grinned.

"It's snowing!" Lily squeaked gleefully, shooting straight up in bed.

"Just in time too-you know what today is?" Violet whispered excitedly.

She gasped in realization, "Merry Christmas Eve, Mummy!"

Violet giggled, kissing Lily's forehead lovingly. "Merry Christmas Eve, my darling…"

**Well...that was a lot to digest, hm? Hope you enjoyed!**

**The next is how Christmas Eve is spent-and a new character to this Christmas special shall be introduced on Christmas morning! Any suggestions?**

**And words?**

**Or people who know people who know people's cousins that know Benedict Cumberbatch?**

**Reviews = Love!**


	13. Seasonal Sherlock: Christmas Morning

***Looks through telescope at island that is nearing the ship***

"**YESSSSS!"**

**After a month lost in the sea of life, I have found my way back to the paradise of Fanfiction**

**I am so sorry you guys-I had so much schoolwork, and then a writer's block that killed me from the inside out for three weeks. Ick.**

**In any event-I am here now, and I won't be leaving like this again, summer is here after this week (although I'm on vacation the first two weeks, that won't stop me-I'll upload as soon as I get back).**

**Do please enjoy this cliffhanger-achem-chapter, I hope you enjoy, made it extra-long!**

**Thank you to all those who have reviewed and all the guests sticking with me-you all encourage me to write! Thank you SO MUCH!  
**

**Show host: "Do you take what's behind curtain number 1 or number 2?!"**

**Rainbow: "Ummmm oh geeze, um I'll take….curtain number 1!"**

**Host: "Congratulations, you've won a three million dollar house and fifty thousand dollar car!"**

**Rainbow: "Sweet!"**

**Host: "If you chose curtain number 2, you could've owned Sherlock!"**

**Rainbow: "WELL GODDAMMIT!"**

**I didn't choose curtain number two, so I don't own Sherlock. Please do not sue me…**

**ENJOY!**

_**Sherlock Holiday Special**_

"_**Oh, and almost forgot to mention…Merry Christmas Johnny." = 45 letters + 5 punctuation marks = 50 characters = 5,000 words**_

"_Dammit, John, I…I'm sorry." _

_Her voice was intended to be persuasive and loving, but her irritation and annoyance was blatantly hidden in every word she uttered._

"_Sorry my arse!"_

John tossed and turned in his sleep, his muscles tensing and features contorting in stress.

_She looked both devastated and yet calm and collected at the same time. "John, it's alright, listen to me…I swear, things aren't what they used to be."_

"_And you think that actually means something to me? Because-surprise!- it DOESN'T." _

His breathing became ragged, and he felt his pulse increase dramatically as a new member entered his vivid dreaming, causing countless alarms to sound in his subconscious-beseeching him to awake…to escape the terrors about to unfold.

"_Johnny?"_

"_What…the hell…are you doing…here…" his hands were already beginning to shake, despite the fact he usually would have more control over himself. _

John's teeth were grinding together in anxiety as he flipped over again, sprawling helplessly in his sheets, unable to get away from the situation-in his mind, it was real, and it was nerve-wracking.

_His smile reminded him of a demented Cheshire cat… fake, cold, and deceiving. "Do I need an excuse to come see my beloved son?"_

_He was shaking all over now, despising that term. "Don't you DARE call me that-"_

"_Johnny-"_

"_Dammit, just-don't even try-get out!"_

_Fake sympathy made John's blood boil as the intruder dared to step closer. "If I do, I take you with me."_

"_For Christ's sake, I'm not a piece of damned property, get OUT!" John pointed feverishly toward the door, taking note of his trembling hands as he balanced his weight from one foot to the other subconsciously. _

The blankets were practically choking John's withering form, and he was twisted in the sheets, giving the impression of a fly helplessly tangled in a spider's web as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"_Excuse me!?"_

"_Don't come any nearer…get the hell out, now." John's voice was firm and demanding, but for the life of him he could not suppress the always-hidden feelings slipping into certain words as he spoke._

"…_you've gained some nerve, being by yourself, Johnny…talking as though you are something special, aren't you?"_

"_Get out!" John bellowed, thankful his voice didn't waver this time._

_But to his horror, the man only stepped closer, revealing his now glowing red-tinted eyes…._

_The bloodthirsty eyes of the hound in Baskerville…_

_The hardened eyes of the desperate terrorists in Afghanistan…_

_The cold eyes of the man he's been prisoner to for far too many years in the cold, lonely, murky halls of a dark house he once dared to call "home"._

_The glowing eyes of all the monsters he feared, collected into one deadly beast that had haunted him from childhood far into his adult years..._

_Along with the sudden changing in eye color, he laughed sarcastically, and John took a wary step back in fear at the all-too-familiar grimace and clenching fists as he spit words with hatred engraved in every syllable. "Talking as if you're something other than my useless bitch…you've been out much too long, Johnny, it's time to come back home…"_

_John swallowed with difficulty, cursing himself for his tremulous voice. "THIS is my home. Get out of it." _

John-even while asleep- felt an extensive range of emotions flood him at the sight of his potential savoir entering the room-completely unaware that further terror would ensue.

"_Sherlock-" _

"_Don't." his flatmate raised his hand in apparent annoyance. "Just leave, John." His voice was soft, but firm, like loose bricks holding back a massive flood of mixed emotions…something John had never heard before. _

"_Wha-Sherlock, this-"_

"_John, it's for the best. Go back home."_

"_OH NO, THAT HELLHOLE IS NOT MY HOME!" he bellowed, feeling loss of control as his beloved friend simply dissipated away, leaving him with whom he considered the demon himself. "Sh-Sherlock!" He was frozen, kneeling on the ground as though some invisible force had pushed him down, and now unable to move.  
_

By this time, John had struggled to the edge of the bed, and was teetering on the edge as he fought against the tightening sheets that had by this time coiled around his neck, and was now one of the only supports holding him from falling over the edge.

"_It's alright, Johnny, you just made a mistake is all…" his attempt at a soothing tone was sickeningly sugar coated, "…things will simply return to the way they were before…"_

"_NO!" The floor, walls, and ceiling all slowly melted into the house he swore decades ago he would never enter again. _

_Clawing at his chest in pain, John struggled to breathe as an immense ache overcame his body, seemingly out of nowhere. Then, one by one, he watched in sheer horror as countless bruises and deep gashes slowly appeared on his exposed arms and hands-and the pain of those forming on his back and chest were more than apparent as the wounds overlapped one another, and unseen fists collided with every weak point in his body._

_The wounds and beatings were everywhere, and the pain was almost unbearable, even for John. But the physical pain was practically nothing when compared to the psychological side that came with it shortly afterwards. Flashes of the memories of exactly when, where, and why these wounds were inflicted ate at his mind and soul, realizing this was all he had to go back to-bleeding, bruised, and broken times._

"…_things will be the way they're SUPPOSED to be."_

"_NO!" his voice was hoarse, no doubt from the sudden invisible blows to the chest and stomach. Looking to the door, he silently begged for his flatmate to return, to see just what he was subjected to when he was abandoned. No one came. _

_It was then John realized for the second time in his life, he was entirely alone._

"_Get up. Let's go." The fake fatherly tone was completely absent now, leaving only dry, biting words in its place._

_Roughly being lifted by the collar, John found he still could not move, and even if he could, he wasn't sure he could bear the pain that would ensue-his wounds were still appearing, practically making a new layer of torn skin over him. "N-no…" he croaked, finding even a little strength left to pull away._

_But he was too late._

"_Welcome home, Johnny."_

"_NO!"_

"No…l-let go…please…" John muttered, shaking his head as he grimaced at the all-too-vivid images in his head. "N-no…"

"JOHN!"

The sudden loud outburst had caused John to jolt awake, hence sending him over the edge of his bed. "Aargh!" he yelped at the sudden pain of colliding with his side table and then the floor, the sheets gracefully fluttering onto his aching body.

"JohnJohnJohnJohnJohn-"

"What the hell…" the doctor mumbled in response, not bothering to remove the sheet, but rather lay there, gasping for air in realization his traumatic experience… wasn't real. "Christ…"

"JOHN IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

"Damn…" he breathed, letting his pulse finally slow down. He had second thoughts on his sanity level when he swore he could still feel the wounds burning on his arms and chest.

By this point, Sherlock was unable to wait any longer for a true Christmas-spirited response, and took the matter into his own hands. "Joooohhhnnnn…." He whined, leaping onto his flatmate's bed to lean over the side in order to actually see him. Well, he still couldn't, on account of the sheet coating him. It made perfect sense to the detective to immediately strip the sheet away without warning. "JOHN!"

"Aah!" John flinched in surprise as the sheet was taken from above him to reveal none other than Sherlock Holmes himself, his dark curls slightly bouncing as he looked down with excitement shining in his frosty eyes. He hadn't even really noticed him until now. "What the hell, Sherlock?!"

Truth be told, all John wanted to do at that second was hug the detective tightly until he couldn't breathe-he ended up being a 'savoir' after all. However, that was no reason to actually TELL Sherlock of what was going on.

Ignoring the annoyed tone in his voice, Sherlock snatched his flatmate's shoulders and, much to John's surprise (which was quite apparent with his sudden yelp), powerfully lifted the doctor up to face him at the same level. "It's _Christmas_, John_._" He hissed elatedly, grinning so wide John was sure his face would crack in half at any given second.

John raised an eyebrow at the time flashing on his clock that had fallen off the side table. "It's one thirty, Sherlock-"

"Hence Christmas morning." The detective replied, looking completely unfazed by the fact, blinking in an almost innocent fashion.

"What exactly do you expect to achieve at this hour?" John asked, holding back a yawn, seeing as they're faces were merely inches apart at the moment. "Besides wake me up…" he snorted.

"Judging by the misshapen status of your bed sheets and blankets, as well as your pajamas, and your abnormally fast heart rate, I would suspect you would be grateful to be awake at this time." Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in concern as he observed a forming bruise on his flatmate's left shoulder, undoubtedly from falling onto his own table moments before. "What happened, John?"

John inwardly cursed at the fact he couldn't escape the accurate deductions that were presented, and felt his thoughts whirring at high speeds to come up with a suitable excuse to avoid the truth.

"John." Sherlock's gaze narrowed as he pulled his flatmate even closer, completely aware something was certainly not right this morning. They both held that position for a moment, neither taking their eyes of the other, like an awkward staring contest neither wanted to lose.

Finally, something in John's head clicked just right. "Army…nightmares." He said in what he hoped was a convincing "admitting" tone.

His flatmate's gaze didn't waver, but it narrowed suspiciously as those icy eyes seemed to stare straight past his lie and into the depths of his soul. John subconsciously gnawed at his lower lip in anticipation as Sherlock tilted his head to the side and looked at his friend curiously, knowing all too well he was doomed from the start. "John, you of all people are fully aware I'm not the type to lie to."

"Shit." John sighed to himself through gritted teeth, taking a second to squeeze his eyes shut and inhale deeply, fighting intense raging emotions that threatened to burst right out of him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the doctor's more-than-odd behavior this morning, and waited until John opened his eyes once more. "John…"

John swallowed and stared intently at Sherlock's sleeve, as if it would provide some of the answers he was seeking.

The detective lightly shook his flatmate's shoulders, the thought that their position was a bit odd never crossed his mind. "John, look at me."

"What?!" John seethed, his sudden angered tone and tensing muscles setting off alarms in Sherlock's head that his suspicions were correct.

"John, tell me the truth."

"That was the truth." John stated, clearing his throat as he struggled to keep his gaze on Sherlock's.

"John…"

"What, Sherlock?!"

"Tell me the _truth_-"

"It doesn't bloody matter anyway!"

"It does to me!" Sherlock barked back.

At this, both detectives froze, noses still merely inches from each other as they stared at one another in a sort of awe. John opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it and sighed, unable to form words to make a response at the unexpected outburst.

Sherlock, on the other hand, felt thousands of words swirling about his mind as he made futile attempts to formulate and reasonable explanation as to why he had said what he did with such power and passion behind it…

Then, as if looking at his flatmate had sparked a fire of thought, Sherlock came to the almost horrifying realization that the uncontrollable feeling was one of care. Sentiment. Something he had avoided for showing countless years, but was all-too-aware there was a locked away part of him that contained just enough for those few who were always beside him. This was beyond a secret, a classified file in his heart and mind. Sherlock almost couldn't process the fact that John had somehow snuck by security and opened that file right up for the world to see.

"John…I-" he began, for once unsure how to communicate. As if expressing a feeling at all was easy in the first place…

"No, don't." John interrupted, understanding all too well what it felt like to uncap bottled emotions. "It's…it's alright…"

"But John, I-"

"-No, really, I understand, it's fine-"

"John, I-"

"You don't have to-"

"JOHN!" Sherlock shook his friend's shoulders once more.

"Wh-what?" John blinked.

"I would like to know the truth."

"Oh…"

And for yet another completely silent moment, the two stared each other down, both quietly wondering which one was going to give in to the other first. Well, in truth they both knew Sherlock would never back down at such a simple challenge, so it was more of a bet on just how long John would last.

When it felt right, the doctor finally opened his mouth to speak, but paused as the echoing sound of knocking came from the living space.

"Um…" John began, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he glanced toward the time on the clock, and then back to Sherlock.

"I have my suspicions as to who our guest is." He assured, flashing a smile before letting go of John's shoulders and quickly rolling off the bed to scurry to the door.

John hadn't realized that his flatmate's strength was the only force keeping him up for the lengthy conversation, but he found out soon enough when that force was taken away, as he felt himself fall against the wall. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose stressfully, but thankful the conversation had been interrupted.

"Do not assume this discussion is over!" he heard Sherlock call from the living space, as if reading his thoughts…again.

"Dammit."

Xxxxx

Upon opening the door, the detective found his conjecture to be correct, as he looked down to see a familiar little blonde beaming back up at him, sapphire eyes sparkling brighter than the paper wrapped on boxes stacked in her arms.

The detective couldn't suppress the grin spreading across his face. "Well what have we here?"

"Merry Christmas Uncle Sherlock!"

"Merry Christmas to you, Lily," he replied, taking the boxes and setting them to the side before scooping the little one into his arms. "But isn't it a bit early to-"

"Sherlock, darling, don't you start with her." Came a familiar honeyed voice from the hallway. \, Sherlock turned and felt himself smiling even wider as Violet Holmes strolled through the door with even more boxes and bags in hand. She made sure to quickly kiss her son on his cheek before making her way to the kitchen. "You and Mycroft know just what it's like to wake up on Christmas morning when the clock strikes midnight."

"Oh!" John blinked in surprise as he came out of the room, realizing there was no threat while he was rushing to get dressed, but felt at ease at seeing Mummy Holmes already set to clearing the kitchen table and counters. "Um… Good….Good morning." He cleared his throat and finished buttoning up his long-sleeved maroon shirt and looking to Sherlock, who had already begun a game of chess with Lily, not bothering to change from his blue robe.

Mummy Holmes swiveled on her heels at the sound of his voice, and her entire persona seemed to brighten even more when she saw him. Before John could comprehend it, he was engulfed in a warm embrace and a loving kiss was planted on his forehead. "Merry Christmas, hon."

"You too," John smiled, feeling his worries from that night melting away already. She was back in the kitchen before he could say anything else. "Are you all up this early every Christmas?" he asked, chuckling.

"Oh, no, we're a bit late this year." She replied with a smile, not even flinching as she opened the fridge to reveal the various human-body experiment jarred subjects sitting on the shelves. She merely moved them aside to make clear space. "Since the two could talk, the tradition's been one minute after midnight."

John raised an eyebrow and smiled at Sherlock, who avoided eye contact as always during such childhood stories. He shifted his gaze to Lily, who was practically bouncing off the walls with joy as she squeaked "Checkmate!"

John turned back to the kitchen. "Anything I can help with?" he asked, unsure as to what exactly to do, being so new to such traditions.

"Actually I left the groceries in the car, love, would you mind? The trunk's already open."

"'Course not." John smiled, shuffling out the door and down the stairs, not caring about his appearance in the slightest as he stepped outside barefoot with ruffled sandy hair. It wasn't as though too many people were awake and on the go at one thirty in the morning, anyway.

Upon closing the truck with the stuffed paper bags in his arms, John froze at the sight of two waving figures in the distance, not more than ten yards ahead and speedily walking his way.

The hot-pink scarf made the female figure more noticeable than the larger male stranger a few steps behind her, walking in an intimidating manner as he followed. At first, the doctor simply stared and watched in confusion, somehow knowing that man was someone he recognized. The strangers came closer, and John's mental puzzle finally began to form a formidable picture in his head.

He felt his heart stop, inwardly praying it was some sort of illusion or remains of his night terrors. The coal black hair, sharply dressed appearance, and muscular build were a dead giveaway that John's fear-fueled hallucination wasn't really a hallucination at all, but rather, a living nightmare. John felt trapped, unable to move as the clomping of their footsteps came closer and closer at an alarming rate.

But he couldn't move, as if his legs were rooted to the sidewalk.

"John!" the girl's squeaky voice beckoned as they trotted closer, the man's shadow so grand it covered her entire frame as he followed from behind, not taking his stony gaze off terrified John's. Then, as if to put poisoned icing on the explosive cake, the man smiled in the way John only knew meant hell was about to unleash.

And yet he couldn't budge.

It wasn't until he could clearly see the cold lines in his unappealing frown and the shady look in his eyes that glared at him with disapproval and dark intent that John _finally_ felt the "flight or fight" adrenaline surging through his veins, every cell in his body burning in pain that had not yet been inflicted.

Knowing all too well fighting was not and never would be an option, the doctor let the paper bags clatter the ground and ran as fast as he possibly could through 221B, slamming the door behind him and scrambling up the staircase without looking back once, deadly afraid he would meet those eyes again if he did. His heart pounded in his chest, thudding so loudly he feared those down the entire block could hear it.

John practically tripped over his own feet as he stumbled through the flat door, slamming it behind him and leaning against with as much pressure he could muster, as if it would keep the monsters out for good.

"John?" Sherlock stood and asked immediately upon seeing his flatmate scramble in. Hearing him dash up the steps was odd, but John's shaking form and hyperventilation immediately triggered deep concern and worry for his friend. The sentiment file was hacked again.

"John, love-what happened?" Violet asked hurriedly, striding to John and not giving the pan she had dropped a second thought at the sight of her step-son trembling so harshly. "Hon-what's wrong?!"

Unsure of how to begin to describe his experience, or even whether or not to even attempt to, John raised his hand in signal to give him a moment before speaking, as he was completely out of breath. "I…out there, he…he was-"

John was cut off by a solid knocking on the door, along with an all too familiar deep bellow calling his oh-so dreaded nickname. "Johnny?"

"Sh-shit!" John stuttered, trembling uncontrollably as he dashed to hide behind Violet and shakily wrap his arms to hold her against him as if to provide protection, giving the impression of a terrified toddler in Sherlock's eyes. The detective's gaze met with his mother's, who nodded with a sympathetic look in icy eyes as she held John's clenched hands. It wasn't a mystery that the doctor was experiencing the most intense and horrific déjà vu of a dreadful situation in his past- for some reason coming back to haunt him now.

Another knock on the door, and John's eyes were squeezed shut as he continued to shudder, his grip around Violet's waist only tightening when the knocks became louder and more aggressive sounding.

"Johnny-open the door, son." The gruff voice ordered from behind the door as the knocking continued.

"Son…?" Sherlock muttered to himself, almost immediately recalling November of last year when his first encounter with John's sister Harley practically traumatized the doctor when the mere topic of his father was brought on. Memorized images of the confidential files Mycroft had shared whirred through his vision, pausing on family data.

Middle child…Two siblings… The detective sifted through the useless information until he finally saw the text that had stuck with him since last year. Charles Watson…multiple domestic violence accusations...not one investigation conducted.

Snapping out of the trance-like visions, Sherlock blinked as the door was practically shaking on the hinges with the strong knocking. "Johnny-I know you're there, come on, son."

"Sherlock-love," Mummy Holmes hissed to get his attention, looking sick with worry as she twisted herself around to hold John in a comforting embrace against her chest in a motherly fashion, toning down his shaking considerably. "-I need to get him away from this situation." She whispered, gesturing to Sherlock's open bedroom door.

Sherlock nodded in response and watched as his mother lead his very shaken-up flatmate into the room and shut the door behind them.

Even louder knocking. "Johnny- Open. The. Door."

"U-uncle Sherlock…He's a monster. Be careful…" Lily whispered, gripping the detective's sleeve as she stared at the shaking door.

"A monster?" he replied quietly, watching in concern as the little one gnawed at her lower lip in obvious fear as her gaze never wavered from the entrance. She had been so quiet during the ordeal he had almost forgotten she was still there in the first place.

"He scares Uncle John… really bad, and nothing scares Uncle John…" she shook her head, jumping when the locked doorknob rattled violently. "Except him." She looked up to him with hope reflecting in her fearful eyes. "Does he scare you?"

"John- open the door. Now…we need to _talk_."

Sherlock stared down at his little friend, and felt an unfamiliar sensation take over; consisting of intense protective emotions and a newfound frustration at the terror this man was causing those he cared about. Gently ruffling her hair with one hand and unlocking the doorknob with the other, he shook his head. "He most certainly does not." He told her, smiling when she appeared to sigh in relief.

Inhaling deeply, Sherlock twisted the doorknob and opened the door, feeling as defensive as ever.

"Joh-oh. Good morning." The man blinked, obviously not expecting who was at the door, especially with a child in his arms.

"Hardly." Sherlock spat, his icy gaze narrowing as he observed their 'visitor' head to toe. Two point five meters tall, incredible muscular build, dark black hair that reflected that of his daughter behind him. John had his nose, but the mustache made his high cheekbones and harsh dark brown eyes stand out in a very serious fashion. He dressed sharply, but his tie was slightly undone in a way that indicated he had a habit of messing with it when stressed. Sherlock wished he could tighten that tie to suffocate the man then and there. "Is there any reasonable excuse for my door to be pounding at one thirty in the morning, waking and terrifying my family, as well as possibly the entire street?" he hissed, tilting his head to the side in a frustrated manner.

"Oh…I…I was not aware-"

"Daddy-is it safe to go back to sleep?" Lily whimpered pitifully, glancing up at Charles with irresistible puppy-dog eyes as she tugged at her "father's" robe. "C-can we go back to b-bed now? Please?"

"It's alright, darling-go back to Mommy and tell her everything's alright," Sherlock told her gently, speaking with his eyes. "Tell your brother too."

"Okay." She nodded, trotting to Sherlock's room without a second glance back.

The detective turned back to those in the doorway and gave a frustrated glare. "I'm sorry- can I help you?"

"Actually," Charles began, looking both skeptical but ashamed at the same time as he watched Lily disappear behind the door. "-is there any chance you have a neighbor by the name of John Watson?"

"No. Is there any chance you could leave my family at peace?" Sherlock snapped, shutting the door. "Merry Christmas." He snorted.

The detective stood, frozen, as he listened to the grumbling voices and footsteps until the door to outside Baker Street opened and creaked shut, indicating their leaving. It worked. Lily's addition certainly helped, he would have to tell her just how good an actress she was.

Sighing, he turned and began walking toward his room, but froze in horrific realization.

Only one pair of footsteps were walking down the stairs and out the door…

The ever so subtle sound of the unlocked door squeaking open sent his mind in a hurricane of thoughts. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_, why didn't he notice that…

No footsteps now…was he just standing there? Only one way to find out at this point.

Slowly turning, Sherlock kept up the act. "I'm sorry-was it not clear I wanted you out of my household-"

No one.

But how?

His question was answered with a blunt object to the back of the head, rendering the detective unconscious before he hit the ground.

Xxxxx

"John, hon, breathe…"

"H-he-"

"Hush-just breathe."

John wished he could breathe, he wished he could stop shivering, he wished he could run far far away from the darkness at his door. The dim lighting, soothing embrace, and soft comforter on his flatmate's bed soon brought him to the realization he was safe from harm's way.

"John…love…look at me." Mummy Holmes helped him to sit, and turned his head to face her. "Are you feeling alright now?" she asked, concern in every word.

"I…" John sighed, wishing his body would stop trembling. "Yes…I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I don't know what came over me, exactly, I…I just-"

"Oh no, darling, that was…that was something truly awful." She told him, smoothing a hand through his hair, "…it's alright now, though."

"I…can't believe that just happened." John breathed, unable to push the haunting memories and nightmares from his mind. "Damn…"

"Mummy? Is Uncle John okay?" a familiar voice asked from the doorway.

"Lily-sweetie, you look like you've seen a ghost," Violet murmured worriedly. "Is everything alright out there?"

"He's really scary…I don't like Uncle Sherlock being alone with him." She whispered, as if they could hear if she spoke aloud.

"Oh God, what've I done…" John exhaled shakily, massaging his face stressfully. "No one should be alone with that man. Ever."

"Then stay here," Violet ordered, lifting Lily onto John's lap and making her way to the door. "And be sure to-…"

"What?" John asked.

"Shh-" Violet hushed, gently leaning against the door to listen.

For a moment, all was eerily silent.

"Hide-NOW!" Violet hissed, just before the door powerfully swung open, ramming her into the adjacent wall with a sickening snap, and a thud as she hit the ground, unconscious.

"Mummy!" Lily squeaked.

John shot up from the bed grasping Lily's hand, stumbling backwards a few steps as Charles' massive figure stepped into the room, revealing unmoving Sherlock in the living space.

"Shit…" John muttered, feeling nauseated at the sight.

"Now then, didn't I tell you not to use that language Johnny?"

"Go away." Lily barked boldly, moving to stand in front of John, who could barely speak at the sight of his enraged-looking father. "Now."

"Aren't you just a charming thing?" he chuckled darkly, sending shivers up her little spine. "Quite the little actress, too."

"I'm not afraid of you." She stated, staring him down intently.

"That's a shame, you should be…" he smiled a bit too cheery as he walked toward them. "Even my own son fears me. For what reasons though, I can't imagine."

For the second time that morning, John felt completely frozen in place.

"Don't touch him." Lily commanded sternly, keeping her position in front of the doctor.

"No can do, little miss." And with that, Lily was tossed onto the bed and bounced off the mattress and onto the unforgiving floor.

At this, John felt every cell in his body come back to life, and immediately sent his fist flying toward his father's face, missing by a mere inch as he dodged with impeccable reflexes. Snatching John's wrist with one hand , he forcefully pulled his son forward and jammed a needle into his exposed neck with the other, watchinhg in satsifactin as he sank toward the ground almost immediately.

"Sorry Johnny…I need you for something important at home…" he told him casually.

John felt his body shut down limb by limb as his world went dark, and his mind whirred with fearful thoughts before the black overcame his vision.

"Oh, and almost forgot to mention…Merry Christmas Johnny."


End file.
